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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147577">i want you to be here (but please don’t come near)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kontraklarinette/pseuds/kontraklarinette'>kontraklarinette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Owl House (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Beta Lumity, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Decently Fast Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, High School Band AU, Literal Sleeping Together, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, basically just beta lumity but they’re band kids, it’s MY fic and I get to be a band nerd on main, theyre super in denial tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kontraklarinette/pseuds/kontraklarinette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a scheduling slip-up, Luz Noceda, Hexside High’s resident new kid and jazz saxophonist extraordinaire, finds herself among the members of the prestigious Banshee Orchestra- and one flute player in particular isn’t all too happy about her arrival.</p><p>(Beta/High School Band AU)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amity Blight/Luz Noceda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>514</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Lying Flute in the Band Room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i decided to make my own au!! ...idk</p><p>this is not related to either of my other band au oneshots by the way</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It only took Luz two seconds to decide that she really, really hated her new school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallways were too loud, for one thing. There were too many people here, and they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and they were all </span>
  <em>
    <span>yelling at the top of their lungs.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It hadn’t been uncommon for her to get sensory overload at her old school, but that place had, what? Three hundred kids at max? She hadn’t exactly passed algebra with flying colors when she was a freshman, but she assumed that this school was big enough to hold at least two thousand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh boy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need to, but she pulled her schedule out of her back pocket to check it anyway. She’d memorized it, of course- concert band first thing in the morning, followed by physics, algebra two, history, geography, and jazz band last period. She knew her new schedule as well as she knew she already hated her new classmates- she’d spent hours going over it, tracing the map of the school carefully to check her route.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it never hurt to reevaluate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her eyes over the list of classes one more time. Yes, yes, that all seemed correct, accurate to her memory, and she was pretty sure she was headed down the right hallway…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped for a minute and squinted at the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since when was she signed up for </span>
  <em>
    <span>advanced</span>
  </em>
  <span> concert band?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d never exactly been a prodigy. Sure, she was a junior now, and she’d been playing the saxophone since she was eleven, but she’d never been </span>
  <em>
    <span>exceptional</span>
  </em>
  <span> at it. Of course, she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She could play an improv swing solo from time to time, no problem. But the advanced band at her old school had accepted only a prestigious fifteen people into its ranks. Being a solidly middling musician, she’d missed the cut. And she was pretty sure she hadn’t signed up for the fancy good-musician band at her new school, Hexside High. But there it was, on the paper very clearly labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Luz Noceda.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Advanced Concert Band with Mr. Bump, first period.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So maybe there’d been a scheduling mistake. It wasn’t something a quick visit to the counselor office couldn’t fix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a sharp left down the hallway her instincts told her would lead her to her destination. Veering closely to the left so as not to be trampled by the sprinting, screaming freshmen- </span>
  <em>
    <span>even more obnoxious here than back home,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought with a roll of her eyes- she spotted a sign on the wall that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Counselor.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her muscles eased. Perfect. She pulled open the door, ducked inside, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why you can’t make these arrangements for me. My family could have any faculty member here fired if their expectations aren’t met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice was sharp, lined with poison, and Luz stopped in her tracks. The receptionist behind the desk was facing off with another student, whose mouth was curled into a disdainful sneer. Luz didn’t want to stare- but it was hard not to when the angry girl looked so… strange? No, that was mean. She didn’t look strange like </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>strange. She was strange like </span>
  <em>
    <span>mysterious attractive stranger </span>
  </em>
  <span>strange. The bright mint hair and vibrant golden eyes definitely set her apart from the other kids here. And she was apparently also very snobby and had rich, influential parents, or something. Luz made a mental note to not fuck with this girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then her eyes fell on the girl’s jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Navy and yellow, with a big </span>
  <em>
    <span>H </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the right side for Hexside, and a single word printed in blue stitching on the center.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Band.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, wonderful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The receptionist’s head jerked up when she sensed Luz enter, and her eyes filled with something like relief. (Not that Luz blamed her. If she were stuck alone arguing with green-haired girl, she’d be thankful for a distraction too.) “Good morning,” she said eagerly. “What can I help you with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band girl- whose varsity jacket read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blight</span>
  </em>
  <span> in cursive on the opposite side of the letter- scowled. “Could you please finish helping me first? It’s urgent.” The amount of snobbiness and entitlement in her voice had to be on purpose. Luz couldn’t think of any reason other than for the sake of pure theatrics she’d want to make herself sound like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d better see what this student needs,” the receptionist apologized. She addressed Luz. “So what’s up? You’re new here, right? I’ve never seen you before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.” Luz’s mouth sealed itself shut. Her mind had drifted a million miles away. She was still looking at Blight, who seemed just as curious as the receptionist, but also like she wanted to punch Luz in the face for interrupting her precious meeting, her eyebrows slanted back angrily and her lip curled in a snarl. (Were those </span>
  <em>
    <span>fangs?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Blight was facing her, it was easier to pick up even more strange- she vowed to herself that she’d never think of Blight as an </span>
  <em>
    <span>attractive stranger</span>
  </em>
  <span> again- things about her. Most of her lion’s mane of hair was mint, but the roots around her hairline trailing all the way down to her shoulders was a dark auburn- almost red, but not quite. And her </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They had to be explained away by colored contacts, but the sheer </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span>ness of wearing colored contacts to a high school to stand out was hilarious. And that wasn’t even mentioning the short pink dress, spiked armbands, combat boots, and fishnet leggings.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?” the receptionist prompted. “Do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz blinked herself out of her thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. Was I staring? </span>
  </em>
  <span> “Oh, no.” She decided right then and there that she was not going to look like a fool in front of this Blight girl. Asking to change from Advanced to Intermediate would not make a good first impression. Blight could probably stare her to death right here if she wanted to- her winged eyeliner was probably sharp enough to slit her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Luz did not want to walk into first period bleeding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to slap herself. Was she really going to go out her way to impress another band nerd? Why should she? Band nerds, were, well… nerdy. But this one… this one was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just wondering,” she said, her throat dry, “if you could point me in the direction of the band room. I have first period there.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Blight’s eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. It’s just down the hall, through the commons, and to the right. Amity, why don’t you show her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity. So this scowling, supercilious bundle of sunshine and makeup was named Amity. Seemed legit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity’s voice held its hauteur. “Weren’t we in the middle of something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s probably more important that you help our new student to her first class. I think our discussion can wait.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Fine.” Amity spared Luz a quick glance that made her insides flip over. It seemed to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is all your fault, new kid. This isn’t over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As Amity led Luz out of the office and into the hallway, Luz tried her best to start a conversation to ease the thick awkwardness that had settled between them. Amity set her pace at a fast stride, and Luz had to hurry to keep up. “So.” She cleared her throat. “Amity, right? Doesn’t that mean… friendship or something? Because honestly, you don’t really seem like you want to be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in the Banshee Orchestra?” Amity interrupted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Banshee Orchestra.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, are you dumb? </span>
  </em>
  <span>she seemed to silently ask. “The fancy name for the advanced band.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She considered this. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be in the advanced band- er, Banshee Orchestra- but by some sort of accident, she was now. Maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the stars had led her to this weird green-haired contact-lensed band geek. (Band goth?) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head to clear her thoughts. That was the corniest thing she’d ever allowed her mind to conjure up. “Yeah, I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you play?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sax. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flutes are cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re new?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What grade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Junior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Amity halted in front of a set of wooden double doors and held her arm out. Luz nearly crashed into her. “Before we go in, I’m going to tell you something.” She turned her golden glare on Luz. Luz stared unflinchingly back- even though Amity was definitely more than a little intimidating, in a sending-goosebumps-up-her-arms kind of way, and in a we’re-strangers-but-you’re-pretty-and-we’re-only-inches-away kind of way too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> band.” The other girl’s voice was low, her tone nearly a growl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am the top student here, and I have been for years. New kids are always cocky, but that trend ends with you. You should know where you stand now. If you want to be at the top, you have to climb there. And believe me. It’s not going to be easy.” She turned around and pushed open the door. “You need to know how this place works if you have any chance of surviving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz snorted. “Dramatic much?” Her old band had never had </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> much drama. And Amity was only one person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave Luz a warning glance over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, alright then. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The band room was bustling. Without counting, Luz guessed that there were about fifty kids here. It was almost the size of the entire program at her old school. “This is the advanced band?” she called after Amity. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either Amity didn’t hear her, or she just straight-up ignored her, because she didn’t turn around. Determination settling in her stomach, Luz tagged along after her. “Hey! Hey, Amity!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity ignored her until she’d found her seat in the front row, and Luz had plopped down next to her. “What?” she snapped. “I showed you the way here, wasn’t that enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz sidled cheekily up to her. “I’ve never been a part of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Banshee Orchestra </span>
  </em>
  <span>before. I’m sure there’s lots I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t piss off Bump and don’t get in my way. That’s about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity turned away. “Shut up, please. I don’t want to help you anymore. Go find a freshie or something. Be friends with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought the whole point of this band was that there </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> any freshies.” She almost laughed. Freshies? Who called them </span>
  <em>
    <span>freshies? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Wait, we’re not supposed to have our instruments out today, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh!” Amity hissed. She pressed her finger to Luz’s lips, and a bolt of electricity shot through Luz’s whole body. Amity must have realized her mistake, because she pulled her hand away as quick as lightning. She jerked her head towards the podium. “Bump’s talking now. I don’t know what they taught you at your old school, but the general rule is to be quiet when the band director’s talking, so you should probably shut your mouth and listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, Blight.” Luz grinned. Her lips were still tingling. “Who put cork grease in your chapstick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity stared pointedly ahead, letting silence fall between them. Luz wolf-whistled quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Bump droned on and on about the new semester and all the events that would come with it, she found herself zoning out.  Yada, yada, solo and ensemble is coming up, Amity Blight made it into All State for the third year in a row… that made her think. What was Amity’s deal, anyway? There certainly hadn’t been anyone like her at her old school. Maybe that’s what made her so fascinating. Luz knew she’d made a promise to herself to not fuck with Amity, but maybe she would anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a little. Just for fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could possibly go wrong?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Banshee Big Band</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i was having a bad day but then it was a good day so here’s another chapter</p><p>this au gives me SO much serotonin awjfhxgsgsg</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I saw you talking to the new kid today.”</p><p>“Oh?” Amity didn’t look up from her carton of milk. She stirred it absentmindedly with her straw, avoiding Boscha’s eyes. The last thing she needed was an interrogation about the weird girl who’d butted into the Banshee Orchestra like she’d been there all her life and who’d clung to her like a burr to a cat’s pelt. What had that girl’s problem <em> been? </em> Didn’t she want to respect the natural social hierarchy that Amity had worked tirelessly to build over the past two years?</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why were you talking to her?”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> want </em>to,” Amity said defensively. She glanced up at Skara, who shrugged. She sighed in exasperation. “She was new and the receptionist in Student Services wanted me to show her to the band room.”</p><p>“Really?” Boscha gave a snort of laughter. Amity felt heat rise in her face. What did it matter? She’d parted ways with Luz now. They didn’t ever have to speak again. They may have both been woodwinds, but their sections didn’t usually mix. Out of sight, out of mind.</p><p>And she <em> definitely </em>wanted to get that annoying saxophonist out of her mind. </p><p>“You seemed to be getting pretty buddy-buddy with her this morning,” Boscha said.</p><p>“She was in the flute section. I didn’t know how to tell her to leave.”</p><p>“You looked about ready to punch her, though.”</p><p>“Yeah.” She took a sip and said nothing else. Maybe being curt as possible would dissuade Boscha from talking about their infuriatingly cheeky new classmate any more.</p><p>It didn’t, though, and Boscha’s next question made her nearly do a spit take. “Do you think she’s hot?”</p><p>She choked, grabbing a napkin to wipe at her mouth as she stumbled for words. “What- uh, pardon?” she sputtered. </p><p>Boscha shrugged. “I mean, she’s a total loser, but I don’t think she’s bad-looking by any stretch of the imagination.”</p><p>“You only think that because <em> you </em> didn’t have to put up with her <em> not shutting up </em> for the entire class period.”</p><p>“Do you <em> do </em> think she’s hot,” Skara butted in.</p><p>“I don’t! I think she’s annoying!”</p><p>“Mm-hm.” Boscha stuffed a limp french fry into her mouth, watching Amity with a half-lidded gaze. “Annoying. So how long ‘til you get caught making out in a practice room? My bet’s on a week. At most.”</p><p>Amity growled, unable to suppress the blush crawling up her neck. She hoped Boscha didn’t think she was lying. She really <em> did </em>think Luz was annoying, even after the little interaction they’d had. She was just embarrassed that her best friend would think such a thing.</p><p>“Hey, isn’t that her over there?” Skara said. Boscha gave up her teasing and spun around to look where Skara was pointing. Amity tried to look too, but she did her best to remain inconspicuous. If Luz caught her staring, she’d surely die of embarrassment.</p><p>Surely enough, Hexside’s newest student was sitting a few tables away, alone, picking at a cheeseburger. Her deep brown eyes met Amity's and she smirked. The heat in her face spreading, Amity flipped her off in response.</p><p>“Woooow,” Boscha snickered. “That was pretty harsh, Ami.” </p><p>Luz’s eyes widened in pretend surprise.</p><p>“She can’t bug me all morning and then look at me like that,” snapped Amity. “It’s her fault I-” <em> Couldn’t talk to the counselor, </em> she finished silently. But she couldn’t tell Boscha that. Boscha was the reason she’d been at the counselor’s office anyway. Talking to Bump hadn’t worked, so she’d moved to the higher-ups to solve her problem.</p><p>And thanks to Luz, her problem was <em> not </em>being solved.</p><p>
  <em> Maybe I can go after school instead. Then it wouldn’t have to be a big deal. </em>
</p><p>But where was the fun in that?</p><p>Boscha began to coo, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Aww, look. She’s sitting alone. Don’t you think we should go sit with her? It’s only the nice thing to do.”</p><p>“She’s new. She’ll find friends eventually, if she’s meant to have them.” Unable to take her friends’ teasing any more, Amity picked up her tray and carried it to the garbage can.<br/>
She’d go to the counselor’s office now.</p><p>~</p><p>The counselor said no.</p><p>Amity couldn’t fathom why. Two classes later, on her way to last period, she was still boiling with rage. She’d only needed a very simple favor. Didn’t any of these useless faculty members know who she was? Once she told her parents that her request had been denied-</p><p>Oh, right. They couldn’t know that she’d even had to make the request in the first place. </p><p>Unless Boscha’s parents had already told them.</p><p>
  <em> Well, I’m not grounded yet, so I’ll hope for the best. </em>
</p><p>She was in a foul mood as she entered the band room. Despite jazz usually being her favorite, she wasn’t looking forward to today’s class at all. And once she saw Luz sitting where the saxes usually sat, her horn on her lap and her foot thumping on the carpet with excitement, Amity’s heart plummeted even further.</p><p>
  <em> So the annoying new kid is in the advanced invitation-only jazz band. Makes perfect sense. </em>
</p><p>Once she’d finished putting her own instrument together, she stalked over to Luz and stood in front of her, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “This band is invitation only, you know.”</p><p>“I was invited,” Luz replied simply. She blinked in surprise when she saw the sax that hung from Amity’s neck. “I thought you were a flute player.”</p><p>“A <em> jazz </em> flute player?” Amity growled. </p><p>Luz put her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know. Maybe you guys do things differently here.”</p><p>“We certainly don’t put flutes in jazz band. And usually, we don’t let know-it-all new kids in either, but obviously we’re ignoring that rule now, too, so hey, might as well grab my flute!” She groaned. “For the love of all that is good, new girl, tell me you’re in third chair.”</p><p>“I think I am. Bump hasn’t told me otherwise.”</p><p>“Hm,” was all Amity said, and then she sat down next to Luz, in her very embarrassing second chair spot.</p><p>Okay, yes, she admitted to herself as she opened her folder and pulled out her music. This is what she’d been so worked up about. </p><p>It was just so unfair. She’d worked all her life to climb to the top, but all her hard work was being undermined by Boscha. Boscha, who was a trumpet player, but had decided to play sax for jazz band just to be extra. Boscha, who was supposed to be her best friend. Boscha, whose parents (and her own conscience) didn’t pressure her to be <em> the top of the top, or else, is there really anything good about you? </em></p><p>And it wasn’t just a bad dream. Amity could clearly see Boscha in the corner of her vision, warming up and plowing through scales at the speed of light. And there, on the other side of her, was Luz, who's cocky air of confidence didn’t betray any care she might have had. </p><p>At this rate, Luz would probably end up surpassing her, too. </p><p>She tried to ease off on the scowl a bit. She couldn't play with that embouchure.</p><p>“We’re going to work with improvisation today,” Bump began as he seated himself at his podium and addressed the class. “You’re all good jazz students, which is why we’re here… oh, and let’s welcome Luz Noceda, who just transferred here from…” He stared at Luz as if he was waiting for her to say something. “Uh…”</p><p>“Glandus,” Luz said quickly. “I’m here from Glandus.”</p><p><em> Glandus?! </em> Amity supposed that would explain a lot. Glandus, though about a fourth of the size of Hexside, was well known for its exceptional athletic and arts programs. This resulted in a lot of stuck-up and defensive transfer students… and Luz was no exception. Last year, they’d beat Hexside’s jazz band by a point during state competition.</p><p>So there was another thing for Amity to hate about Luz. She felt a strange bit of satisfaction at that. <em> Let the new girl know her place. </em></p><p>“It’s good to have you,” Bump said, not so much as flinching at Luz’s announcement that she’d come from one of the top-ranked schools in the state. Not that Amity expected him to. It didn’t matter to him where Luz came from. One less musician for Glandus- that was good.</p><p>But did she <em> have </em> to come <em> here, </em>of all places?</p><p>He cleared his throat and went on. “Anyway, we’re going to take a look at ‘April in Paris’ today, so please get out your sheet music. Luz, Amity has the second alto part, so you can look off hers.”</p><p>Luz glanced at Amity and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, wow, look at us. Sharing sheet music. How scandalous.”</p><p>Amity shoved her folder onto Luz’s stand. “You can have it. I’ve memorized it.” She hadn’t, but she didn’t want Luz to think anything less of her.</p><p><em> What am I doing? </em> she scolded herself. <em> Am I trying to </em> impress <em> her? </em></p><p>“Aww, that’s so sweet. You must like me.”</p><p>“Don’t push your luck, Noceda.”</p><p>“Should I have let you learn my last name, or are you going to call me that forever?” Luz quipped.</p><p>“Why would I call you Luz?”</p><p>“Amity, Luz,” Bump interrupted, “if you’re quite finished…”</p><p>The two girls exchanged one more glare before returning their attention to him. There was an undeniable spark of tension between them, though. Amity wouldn’t have been surprised if it all culminated in a fist fight after class ended.</p><p>And to think they’d only known each other for seven hours.</p><p>This was going to be a long semester.</p><p>Their director resumed his speech. “As I was saying, we’re going to work on improvisation today. Every jazz musician needs to know how to improvise. It might be scary, but it’s fundamental that…”</p><p>Amity let herself zone out as he droned on. She already <em> knew </em>all this. She’d been invited to advanced jazz class last year, as a sophomore- something that happened about as often as she earned silver medals at solo and ensemble contest, which was never. She knew how to solo. And this piece was simple, too- she only needed a B-flat blues scale, the simplest in the book. She cast a quick look out of her peripherals at Luz. Luz was listening  intently, leaning forward, her foot tapping erratically on the ground like she was excited for something. Excited to make a fool out of herself, maybe. Amity bit back a laugh. </p><p>
  <em> She thinks she’s so great. I bet she can’t improvise to save her life. </em>
</p><p>“Who’d like to go first?”</p><p>Amity brought herself out of her thoughts. Her hand shot up at the exact same moment that Luz’s did. The rope of tension between them thickened.</p><p>Bump was delighted that the band’s newest member was so <em> brave </em> and <em> outgoing </em>. “Great to see you volunteering, Luz. You can go first. Now, we need a brass instrument- Skara on trombone, okay. Another woodwind? Willow on clarinet it is. How about a percussion solo? Okay, Gus, you go ahead on drumset. And then Amity can go last. That should be quite enough. Sixteen bars each. Remember your scales. Okay, rhythm section, get ready.”</p><p>The percussionists and the trumpets burst eagerly into the song, and Amity tried her best to play along with what she’d memorized. Her heart pounded as they neared the solo section. She couldn’t mess up in front of L- her classmates.</p><p>She’d forgotten that Luz had been picked to go first though, and when Luz finally burst into her solo, she found herself slack-jawed.</p><p>Most kids stumbled around awkwardly on the notes or played the most boring rhythms possible or played in the wrong key entirely, but Luz did not do any of those things. She did quite the opposite, in fact. Her tone didn’t betray a hint of timidness. She landed each note confidently, and her rhythms and melodies blended so seamlessly together that throughout the other solos Amity found herself replaying Luz’s in her mind instead of paying attention.</p><p>And when it was finally her turn, she blundred through the sixteen measures as if she was a sixth grader playing for an audience for the very first time. Luz’s dark gaze burned into her back as she played, and she couldn’t shake it off.</p><p>This new girl was going to be the death of her.</p><p>She was doomed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please leave a comment if you would like :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Willow Commits Seven Traffic Violations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i was gonna post this yesterday but my band director gave me a soprano sax and i spent the entire afternoon playing it because it’s soooooo cuteeeeeeee</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the band was dismissed, Luz made her way to her locker. Even as she put her horn away, she could still feel Amity’s fiery gaze smoldering on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Glandus. So what was all that about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zipping her case shut, Luz shoved the instrument into the locker she’d be assigned that morning and turned to see who’d spoken. Standing behind her were two of the kids who had soloed. She recognized Willow the clarinetist and Gus the percussionist. She remembered their solos- neither of them had been half bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow pushed her round glasses up her nose as she waited for Luz’s reply. She was a stocky, athletic-looking girl with a shock of short black hair and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Gus was tiny- Luz guessed he was a  freshman or a sophomore- and he clicked his drumsticks together as the silence dragged on.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook herself out of her stupor. She hadn’t expected anyone to approach her with such relative friendliness, but she supposed her standards weren’t very high. “What was what all about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity. You two were bickering like an old married couple just then.” Willow chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have seen her glaring at you during your solo,” Gus added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If looks could kill, you’d have been dead in first period.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d have been dead </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> first period.” Luz’s mind drifted back to the Student Services office that morning. “I asked her to show me to the band room this morning. Shame you couldn’t have seen it. She was about to totally blow up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow shrugged. “Nah, everyone gets struck with the Ami-mosity every once in a while. I’ve never seen anyone get on her bad side so quickly, though. You must be special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ami-mosity? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She flushed. “Yeah. Special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spark lit in Willow’s dark gaze. “Oh, so it’s like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said slyly. “I see how this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just met you,” Luz said defensively. “You’re not allowed to tease me yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow held out her hand. “Okay, then. Let’s declare this an allyship, shall we? You hang out with us and keep us company, and we’ll help you get your dream girl. Fair trade, I’d say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity is not my dream girl. She is literally the last person I would ever date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who ever said I was talking about Amity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz stared at her, slack-jawed. Gus giggled. “Good one, Willow,” he cackled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz huffed and looked away. She’d never admit in a million years, but… the thought of dating Amity had crossed her mind today, but only a couple times. It was stupid, anyway, since they’d only known each other for a day. One could say that… from certain angles… Amity was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but that’s about all she had going for her. Luz hated her snarky attitude, and what a good musician she was, and the way she revealed her especially-sharp canines when she smirked…  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow snapped her fingers in front of Luz’s face. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squawking, Luz pulled herself out of her stupor. “Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gus and I had an idea,” she said. A grin spread across her face. “Are you free this afternoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean like, right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, right now. Are you free? You want to fuck with Amity, I’ve got an excellent way for you to fuck with Amity. You won’t regret it- I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be easy to lie. Luz wasn’t very sure she wanted to be roped into whatever Willow and Gus were planning, but… did she really want to spend the rest of alone at her apartment? Her mom wouldn’t be home until after dinner, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would she lose by hanging out with a couple strangers for an hour or two after school? At Glandus, she’d never had anyone to hang out with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said decisively. “Where are we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit!” Willow clapped her on the back. “So Amity works at the mall downtown every Monday from three-thirty to six…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suffice it to say, Willow was not a very good driver. “Don’t worry, I passed driver’s ed,” she called as she lurched through the I-65 traffic, nearly shaving one side off of her minivan after a close brush with a semi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz gripped the back of the seat in front of her. “If you say so!” she choked out. She envied Gus, who was relaxing in the passenger seat, calm as if he was just sitting at a desk in class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a nerve-wracking roll over the curb, they’d arrived in the mall and found a place to park. Willow pulled the key out of the ignition and threw the front door open. There was a crunch as it hit the car next to them. “Whoops,” she said. She examined the dent in the pristine white car she’d rammed it into. “My bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were inside, she set a brisk pace, leaving Luz and Gus trailing behind her. “What’s in it for you?” Luz panted as they stopped in front of a brick store facade. She put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “Why are you mad at her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same reason everyone else is,” Willow said bluntly. “Because she’s a dick. Now let’s go. It’s almost middle-schooler rush hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz looked up at the store’s entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amity worked at Hot Topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside of the place was all rock music and overpriced black T-shirts and that dumb pin bin and so many nostalgic memories from seventh grade that she felt she might be sick. How had she ever thought jeans and a partially clean band T-shirt was the height of fashion? Now her band </span>
  <em>
    <span>uniform </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the height of fashion. Or at least it had been before she moved. (Hexside’s colors were blue and yellow… how could they make a good-looking band uniform out of that?)</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then again, Amity looked pretty nice in her letterman jacket.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She banished the thought immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Willow had predicted, Amity was stationed behind the cash register in the center of the store, and she looked bored out of her mind. She’d removed the jacket, revealing her spiked choker that matched the bands on her wrists, and her sleeveless pink dress. Wow, she even had nice shoulders. Maybe the school dress code was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice was unenthused when they approached the counter, but a scowl crossed her flawless features when she saw Luz. “Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Willow said. “We need your hottest employee to go on a date with a cute sax girl. Oh, wait. Are you the only one working right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she replied dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel bad for your ugly coworkers, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus nudged Luz. “She’s not helping,” he whispered. “I think you’re on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I can and will kick you out, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of Willow’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Oh no, I’m so scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out and let me help people that are actually here to buy something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow turned in a circle, glancing around the small space. “There is literally nobody else here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then get out before I make you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I buy some of those stupid pins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. Just steal them like everyone else does. Whatever gets you out faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually-” She drew the word out dramatically- “I think Luz wanted to talk to you. So Gus and I will just… go… over… here.” She grabbed Gus by the arm and tugged him towards the Funko Pop wall. She flashed Luz a quick thumbs up on the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Amity turned to Luz. “Okay, spit it out. Haven't you bothered me enough for one day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Luz said quickly. “I mean- yes. I mean, it’s only been a day. You can’t possibly hate me that much.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“A day was all I needed. This semester is going to be horrible and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> quit band if you keep it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you just jealous that I solo better than you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity’s pale face went a fiery, furious red. “No!” she snapped. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>solo better than me. I was just thinking about you while I was playing, and-” Realizing she’d said too much, she made an angry noise in the back of her throat and dragged an agitated hand through her hair. “No! I wasn’t thinking about you! I was thinking about your solo, and how it sounded really good. No, that’s not right, either. Argh. Luz Noceda, I do not like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The feeling is mutual.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Good. Then can you please stay out of my way from now on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Luz shrugged. “But I do think it was pretty cute that you were thinking about me during your solo. That’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up and leave if you’re not going to buy anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll buy something. I, uh-” She considered her options. There were a lot of makeup sponges and stickers up here by the register, but- oh, yes, she knew how to mess with Amity. She flashed her hand out and grabbed Amity’s wrist (gently, of course) and unsnapped one of her spiked bracelets, slipping it carefully over her own wrist. Amity merely stared at her in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spun and made for the entrance before Amity could say anything. “See you tomorrow, second chair!” she yelled, throwing in a wink for good measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow and Gus glanced up as Luz left and took off towards her. As they slipped back into the atriums of the mall, Willow called out her own snide remark. “Sorry for denting your car, but I’m not paying for it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz slammed the front door of the apartment shut behind her an hour later, letting her heavy backpack fall with a thump to the ground. She groaned. When Willow had dropped her back off at the school’s parking lot, her exhaustion had finally caught up to her, and she’d nearly fallen asleep on the drive home. At least she could be alone now, she thought as she entered the kitchen. A snack and a nap on the couch sounded-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz! Where have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze in the doorway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of course her mom would have gotten home early today. Of all the days her work at the hospital didn’t keep her until ten at night… yet there she was, sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over her laptop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Mom,” she apologized. She put a wide smile on her face, feigning innocence. “I should have texted you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have texted me, all right!” Camila let out a string of fierce reprimands in Spanish. Luz groaned and leaned against the doorframe. She couldn’t do anything but grin and bear it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you anyway?” her mom demanded. “You didn’t answer my question. It’s almost five o’clock. Don’t tell me you are already off by yourself, getting into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t by myself. I was with some friends. At the mall.” The word </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt strange in her mouth. Usually, when she spoke about friends, it was only about the ones she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger on Camila’s face crumpled. “Friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Two kids from band. They invited me to hang out with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mija.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Camila stood and wrapped her daughter in a warm embrace. “You made friends. I’m so happy for you. What are their names?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Willow and Gus. Gus is a percussionist, and Willow’s a clarinet.” She wriggled away before her lungs were crushed. “So you’re not mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not this time. I’m glad for you now. Just please let me know before you go out in the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy you have friends. Maybe you won’t be quite so lonely at school anymore, hm? You can stop sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed half-heartedly, but her thoughts had switched their course again, this time focusing themselves on a certain flutist-slash-saxophonist with long green hair and piercing golden eyes. What was the point of having friends if she had an enemy, too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Camila rapped her knuckles on the top of the table. “Come sit with me. Tell me about your day. Do you like your new school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you at dinner. I’m really tired. And I have homework.” It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly </span>
  </em>
  <span>true. Her teachers had let her off the hook as far as homework for the day was concerned, but really, she just wanted quiet time to herself to be able to process her day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then. You go rest yourself. Dinner will be in two hours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Te queiro, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, Mami.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she was at last alone in her room, she pulled her phone out and opened Instagram, yearning for a distraction. A notification greeted her- one that made her chuckle (and maybe blush a little bit, too, if she was being honest.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(luzuranoceda): flutechick128 has requested to follow you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hopefully it wasn’t too much to hope that there was something between her and Amity other than bitter hatred.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Inherent Homoeroticism of Band Uniforms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>[flutechick128] what the fuck noceda</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[flutechick128] why did you just steal my wristband and run away</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[flutechick128] give it back tomorrow and never fucking come back to my work again</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The messages had been read a week ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity didn’t know why she kept clicking on the conversation, even after it became increasingly clear that Luz wasn’t going to answer. It wasn’t even a conversation, really. It was just her yelling into the void only to be left on seen by the girl she’d made her rival after only one day of school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meeting Luz was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week into the semester now, the two had hardly exchanged words since Luz had barged into her work and started acting like a toddler, but there was still a tangible tension in the air between them during every band rehearsal. Luz’s love for showing off was the worst thing about her. Every day in jazz class, she’d volunteer to improvise, and every day, she’d do amazing. Sure, she’d come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>prestigious Glandus,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she was still the best saxophone player Amity had ever met. She was outstanding, even considering where she’d transferred from. The thought made Amity’s blood boil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice drifted through the thin walls of her room. “Mittens! You’re gonna be late! Hurry it up or Mom is gonna beat your ass again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Emira,” she yelled back. She clicked out of Instagram and shoved her phone into the pocket of her denim jacket. She needed to stop stressing about Luz before interacting with her siblings- already Emira liked to tell her that it was obvious when she was thinking about Luz because her face got all red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course it did. Thinking about Luz made her really, really mad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Checking to make sure she had everything in her backpack, plus her two instrument cases, she rushed down the stairs in time to see her siblings waiting for her in front of the door to the garage. Edric leaned against the wall, lazily scrolling through his phone, but Emira kept an eagle-eyed watch for her baby sister. “Let’s go. I’m driving you today,” Emira said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no musical rehearsal after school, so we might as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Amity huffed. She liked it when her siblings had musical rehearsal, because it meant that she’d have the house to herself for at least a few hours. She could practice in solace, silently agonize over her social life… whatever she wanted to do, and she could do it all alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s ensemble rehearsal, so Ed still has to go, but I don’t.” She cackled. “Imagine not being the lead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edric rolled his eyes. “Too bad you got kicked out of the pit, Amity,” he chirped, not looking up from his screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edric! Don’t pour salt in her wound,” her sister snapped. “You know that’s a sensitive subject.” She waved her hand at Amity. “Come on, let’s go. Can’t have the Banshee Orchestra’s top flute player coming in late to practice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity grunted and followed her siblings into the garage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Banshee Orchestra’s top flute player,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but not the Banshee Big Band’s top saxophone player.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She clambered into the passenger seat of Emira’s car before Edric could, leaving her brother to mutter dejectedly in the back on the ten-minute ride to school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Blight estate was massive, composed of a huge courtyard and an elaborate manor set into the Midwest countryside that looked very out of place among the fields of corn and soybeans. Learning to back out of the long driveway and through the entrance gates without hitting them had been Amity’s least favorite part of learning how to drive (okay, maybe after parallel parking.) It was huge, perfect for the random parties her parents hosted all the time for no particular reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered if Luz would enjoy a Blight party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Redness spread across her face when she realized what a treacherous thought had just crossed her mind. Of course Luz wouldn’t enjoy one of her parents’ parties. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t even enjoy her parents’ parties. They were full of noisy, drunk adults who were trying too hard to be fancy and formal but in actuality acted more like kindergarteners at recess than rich people with cushy government jobs. Her parents never even let her invite her friends, so save for her siblings, she was totally alone at every single one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand drifted to the single bracelet on her left wrist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess Luz’s company would be better than none, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she decided begrudgingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emira interrupted her train of thought. “Heyyyy, Mittens,” she said in that way she always did before her mouth produced something that would make Amity want to slap her. “Thinking about that new girl again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” She pulled her sax case closer to her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re blushing like mad. Is our little Mittens smitten?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate her,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emira nodded in mock understanding. “I too constantly talk about the people I hate all while making the most obvious heart-eyes in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em’s got a point!” Edric chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity twisted in her seat and faced her brother, gripping the headrest and digging her nails into the thick leather. “Since you guys don’t seem to get it, I’ll spell it out for you. Noceda is not my friend. I do not like her. She walked in to the little world I’d built for myself and is now trying to usurp me. Why would I like her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuuuute,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emira sang. “Seriously, Mittens. You could be living the fanfic trope of your dreams right now if you’d just get over the whole jazz band thing already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity sniffed, pressing herself back into the corner of her seat. “Fanfic trope of my dreams? What part of ‘I don’t like Luz Noceda’ don’t you guys understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The part where after a romantically tense rivalry, you realize you’ve been in love with each other all along and kiss under the stands after a football game? Duh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s January.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Emira waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I must live out a fanfic-” she left out the part where she admitted to actually really enjoying fanfic- “I would want it to be with a person I can actually stand to be around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what it’s all about, silly. You have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>realize</span>
  </em>
  <span> you love them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity’s lucky stars must have been looking out for her, because it was at that moment Emira pulled into the Hexside parking lot. Relief flooded her chest. The sooner she could get away from her siblings…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...the sooner she’d be in the band room, trapped with that insufferable saxophonist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere </span>
  </em>
  <span>was horrible these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she arrived in first period, the whole room was mostly full, but she could still hear quiet voices drifting from Bump’s office. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he’s talking to Principal Belos about letting me back into the pit,  </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought hopefully. (Of course, if Belos had any say in it, he’d probably just defund the band program altogether.) She’d honestly forgotten about that whole debacle before Edric had brought it up again. She knew she’d gotten off with a light punishment- she could have been kicked out of school altogether- but she loved pit, and besides, she’d only punched Boscha once, and not very hard at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put her flute together and sat down, using her extra time to blow through a few scales. Usually scales were a breeze, but this morning, her thoughts were stuck and her fingers slippery. Why did Ed and Em get to be in the musical but she didn’t? Sure, they were bona fide theatre kids, but who cared. She wished she’d been kicked out of jazz band instead. Then Luz would be out of the picture (or at least closer to falling off the edge of the picture.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she could negotiate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, the door to Bump’s office opened and Luz came bounding out. There was a definite spring in her step, and when she caught sight of Amity looking at her, her grin grew even wider. Amity tried to look back at her music before Luz realized what she was doing, but it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Amity!” Luz exclaimed as she leapt over to the front row. “Happy Tuesday! Wow, you just look thrilled to see me this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity tried not to stare at the spiked wristband on Luz’s wrist- the one she’d made no effort to take back, despite her frustration. Deciding that ignoring her would be the best option, she brought her flute back up to her mouth and continued to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Luz went on. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing a great job being the second-best musician in the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suppressing her fury, Amity picked up the tempo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also wanted to tell you something about pit band.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doing the musician equivalent of a spit-take, she choked and dropped her flute to her lap. “Pit band?” She searched Luz’s gaze for any clues, but her mischievous brown eyes betrayed nothing. “Are they letting me back in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the opposite, actually,” Luz replied, smiling. “I’m replacing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all of Amity’s strength to not bash Luz’s head in with the flute right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you might be mad, but that’s why I’m telling you. You’re funny when you’re mad. You turn red as a tomato. It’s hilarious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Replacing me.” She stood, closing her folder and gathering the music in her arms with a menacing calmness. It was time for her to have a conversation with the band director about the difference between a fair punishment and straight-up injustice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz snorted. “Don’t get your choker in a twist, Blight. I’m not replacing you on flute. Only on sax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh.” That was the beauty of being able to double, she supposed. But the image of Luz, who’d barely even seen a flute actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>playing</span>
  </em>
  <span> one would have sent her over. “Still. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m better at saxophone than you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity hummed. “Interesting. Noceda, do you ever do anything with your mouth besides run it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I play a mean sax solo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz went silent, and a third voice cut into their argument (conversation?) “Good morning, Amity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice wasn’t Luz’s. Amity spun around. Mr. Bump stood behind them, glaring at the quarreling pair. She shrank into herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Seven-thirty in the morning and she’d already invoked her director’s wrath. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Sorry,” she stammered. “I’ll go back to warming up. I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the corner of her vision, she saw Luz stifle a giggle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut UP!</span>
  </em>
  <span> she longed to scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bump held up one hand. “I’m not angry at you. Save for the… incident last week, you’re my top player. You may talk to your friends before class if you wish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” crowed Luz. “You can talk to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity flushed with embarrassment. “We’re not friends,'' she growled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not even close.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless,” Bump continued, “I’d like your help with something. The mid-winter concert is next week. Luz doesn’t have her Banshee Orchestra uniform yet, and she needs one. Could you please go into the uniform closet and help her try one on? You can return to rehearsal as soon as you find one that fits her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-” She exchanged a glance with Luz. Luz shrugged, seemingly nonchalant, but Amity’s mind was already crowded with many less-than welcome imaginary scenarios involving trying on the band dresses. Wouldn’t she have to… zip it up for her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Amity would love to help me with that,” Luz said smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, for the love of all that was good. Luz definitely knew what she was thinking. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bump produced a key from his pocket and dropped it into Amity’s hand. “Wonderful. The bell is about to ring, so you can go now. You remember which room it is, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Amity’s hand closed around the key and she gestured at Luz to follow her. The sooner they got this done, the better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The uniform closet was right across the hall. She flung it open and gestured to the rack of long black dresses in the corner. “There are the uniforms. Pick one. Maybe it will fit, maybe it won’t. If it doesn’t, good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They should make you a section leader,” Luz said. “I bet you’re great with freshmen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just try one on so we can leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So these are the Hexside band uniforms?” She took some of the fabric in her hands and inspected it. “I don’t know shit about fashion, but I’m assuming this is fancy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity shrugged. She silently willed her to get on with the process so they could leave, but Luz seemed intent on taking her time. “It is. But it’s not the uniform for the entire Hexside band. Only the kids in Banshee Orchestra and Banshee Big Band get to wear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At Glandus we all just had polos and khakis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what everyone else here wears. But as the flawless and perfect top musicians, we have to wear the fancy dresses. Or a tux, if you’re lucky enough,” she added dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz tilted her head. “You don’t like the fancy dresses, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that-” Amity sighed. She’d already revealed too much. “Y’know, I think Bump put me in here on purpose. I can’t stand being trapped in a closet with you. He’s probably trying to torture me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop changing the subject. You were about to drop some epic Amity Blight lore. I wanna hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to hear anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I tell you, will you shut up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz mimed zipping her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” She groaned internally. The last thing she wanted was to be having an actual conversation with Luz Noceda, but she supposed she couldn’t get out of it. “I don’t hate the band dresses. But last year… I wanted to toy around with expression a little, and I asked my mom if I would wear the tux for concerts instead. She said no, because if I did, everyone would immediately know…” She stopped, letting Luz fill in the blanks herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That you’re gay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz dragged her eyes up and down Amity’s body, making her feel strangely warm and self-conscious. “Uh. Yeah. Please, boots and a denim jacket? Are you kidding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that I don’t like dresses,” she insisted. “I just wanted to try something different.” She still did, but there was no reasoning with Odalia Blight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a short pause. She scuffed her boots on the linoleum floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m bi,” Luz said. “If it matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity nodded to the dress rack. “Are you going to try one of those on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you turn around.” Luz stuck out her tongue. “Weirdo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed defensively, but turned her back to Luz nonetheless. She listened to Luz fiddle with the thick fabric for a while. She rolled her eyes. This girl had clearly never worn a dress before. She, on the other hand, had worn everything from cute sundresses to near full-out ball gowns thanks to her mother’s strict taste in her daughters’ fashion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity! I can’t reach the zipper in the back!” Luz’s voice was high-pitched, and it held a hint of a laugh, as if she just wanted to see Amity squirm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity refused to squirm. She crossed the room and zipped the back of Luz’s dress with one smooth movement. Her fingers brushed Luz’s bare skin, and for a brief moment, the other girl shivered. “What? Are you cold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, because you’re melting my heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name made her blush, but she made sure to scowl along with it so Luz would know it was an angry blush. Somehow, Luz had picked a perfect-fitting dress on the first try. It hugged her in all the right places. Of course it should have- the Banshee Orchestra demanded only the best in terms of appearance and sound, and now, much to Amity’s chagrin, Luz fit both requirements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped in front of Luz and adjusted the dress’ neckline one more time. “There.” She dropped her hands at her sides, exasperated. “There you go. Remember the name on the tag, because that’s yours for the rest of the year, and they’re hundreds of bucks to replace, so don’t go spilling shit on it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz gave her a lazy grin. “That was the best experience of my life. The touch of another human being. Wow. I haven’t experienced that since the girlfriend I have literally never had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feigned offendedness. “C’mon. You’re supposed to feel bad for me! You’re supposed to say, ‘oh, poor Luz has never had a girlfriend, what a horrible life to live!’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel bad for you.” Amity pushed the door to the hallway open, letting Luz approach her before her hand let the door fall shut. Squawking, Luz raced to intercept it, and squeezed after her. “Maybe someone will date you once you tone your attitude down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could say the same to you, Blight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t put me in the first chair flute spot for no reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, there’s an awful lot of high-and-mighty in there for someone so short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity froze in her tracks. Sidling up to Luz, she tilted her chin up to gage their heights. The top of her head barely reached Luz’s chin. So maybe she hadn’t realized how much taller than her Luz actually was. “Short, huh?” she challenged. “I’d like to see you say that again with a fist in your eye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s gaze glinted with playfulness. She leaned down so that she was at eye-level with Luz. “You wouldn’t be able to reach all the way up here,” she taunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly aware at the short distance between them, Amity turned tail and walked briskly into the band room. “Maybe I’ll try someday,” she called over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, how she hated Luz Noceda.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i’m projecting onto amity so hard here... except the reason i got kicked out of pit was not bc i punched someone lol</p><p>i ALSO hate the fancy dress i have to wear for band </p><p>and when i came up with “banshee big band” my first thought was about how my school has a “rockin’ raider pep band”</p><p>also the next chapter you’ll be getting will be from 17 year old kontra hehe</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Aria #2727 in D Minor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>guys guess what even though the pit band doesn’t want me the CAST of the musical DOES... go figure </p><p>(i’m 17 now... will my writing magically get better now or something? one can only hope)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were four days until the mid-winter band concert.</p><p>Luz had four days to figure out how she was going to break the news to Amity that Bump had approached her after jazz class the previous day and informed her that she’d be moved up to first chair after the concert was over- and she had to do it without getting her neck wrung, too. </p><p>It felt like a betrayal, in a way. She’d dared to hope that some sort of connection had sprung up between them in the uniform room, and now she was ruining it by daring to be better than the queen of the jazz band, Amity Blight.</p><p>Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there’d never be anything but rivalry between them.</p><p>“Hey. Hey, Luz. You’re staring again.”</p><p>“Hm?” She blinked, refocusing on the two friends on either side of her. Gus was peering at her with wide eyes, while Willow was regarding her with an infuriatingly smug smile. Behind them, Amity and her cronies sat with their backs facing them. Maybe she had been staring. It was hard not to, when the color of Amity’s hair was the brightest in the room.<br/>
“I think you two really need to sort your issues out,” Willow went on. “You spend, like, an incredible amount of time staring at her. Like, holy shit, girl. Just kiss her already.”</p><p>“I will do nothing of the sort,” she retorted, faking haughtiness. “She’s below me now, remember?”</p><p>Willow nodded to Luz’s wrist. “Suit yourself, but wearing her goddamn bracelet all the time is a gay-ass move. Just warning you. If you keep it up, she might think you’re into her.”</p><p>“I’m about as into her as you’re into men.”<br/>
“Ack.” Willow stuck her tongue out. “Gotta admit, you got me there.”</p><p>Luz muttered something under her breath and went back to nursing the concoction on her lunch try. </p><p>She had to admit that, however guilty she felt over moving ahead of Amity in jazz band, there was a twinge of satisfaction there, too. The girl had enough ego to power a small country. Being confronted with the fact that she wasn’t the music god’s gift to high school band would be kind of funny. “I just don’t know how to tell her about the chairs getting changed,” she confessed. “She’ll be so angry at me. I don’t want to make her even madder.”</p><p>Willow slammed her milk carton theatrically on the table. “Why do you even care?” she demanded. “She hates you. You hate her. Just <em> don’t tell her. </em> Let her figure it out on her own. She’ll walk into jazz on Wednesday and see you sitting in her spot and totally blow up. Any sane person would find that hilarious.”</p><p>“I don’t hate her, though.” Luz would never admit it out loud, but she actually had no idea what she thought of Amity. Ever since their very first meeting two weeks ago, the fiery flutist had been on her mind constantly, but Luz’s thoughts regarding her were all jumbled, incoherent messes at best.</p><p>“Then you must have a big gay crush on her. End of story.”</p><p>“It’s not that.” </p><p>Gus, from where he was hunched over the table watching a video from his phone, gave a noncommittal grunt. “Drop the act, Luz. You’re gay as hell for her and you know it.”</p><p>“I’m not!” she defended herself, and winced at the crack in her voice The argument had sounded a lot stronger on her head. Out loud, she just sounded like a kindergartener who’d had to forfeit the last popsicle to her classmate.</p><p>Okay, fine. So maybe her insides flipped and flopped like a roller coaster whenever Amity was so much as in the same room as her, and getting smirked at during improv time in jazz class made her face redder than a trumpet player’s, and getting stared down by those golden eyes made her whole body feel weird, but… that didn’t matter. Amity was impossible to be around and even more insufferable to talk to. </p><p>Luz didn’t like her. She just wished Amity would spare some of that excess self-esteem sometime. “Anyway. Anything up with you guys?”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Gus sighed. “We don’t have to talk about Amity anymore.”</p><p>“That’s all we ever do anymore. It’s annoying.”</p><p>Willow grinned. “Yeah, but it’s still the most interesting thing that’s ever happened around here. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s only big city private schools like Glandus where anything actually happens. Nobody looks twice at the cornfield kids. So a whole forbidden-relationship-between-rivals thing? Sign me up! <em> That’s </em>the high school drama the movies told me about.”</p><p>“What about contest? Can’t you tell me about that? It’s coming up soon, right?”</p><p>“You say like you’ve never been to contest before,” Willow said, taking a sip of her milk.</p><p>“Well-” Luz paused. She wondered how much of the truth was safe to reveal. It was true that she’d never taken a solo or an ensemble to contest in her life, but up until now, she’d never needed to. Back at Glandus, she’d been a nobody, sitting solidly in the middle of the pack in concert band- and barely reaching the top in jazz band. Contest meant playing boring stuff that sounded less like music and more like random strings of notes strung together just to test how fast she could press her keys. Maybe all professional musicians were as egotistical as Amity was if that’s what they found interesting. </p><p>But Luz had never had an interest in that kind of music. She loved jazz because the music was hers to manipulate and interpret as she saw fit. Contest just had too many rules, and the only rule in jazz was that there weren’t any (well, that and ‘follow the scale when improvising.’) But now that she’d lied her way into the advanced concert band, she guessed that things like contest might be a little more… mandatory. “This is my first contest being in advanced band,” she decided. It wasn’t a lie. Contest only happened in the spring. “I figured the rules might be different.”</p><p>“Then listen up and listen hard, because solo and ensemble contest is a very serious thing. You’re at the top of the top now, which means you can’t take it lightly.” Willow grabbed her backpack and dug around in it until she found a tattered piece of paper, which she handed to Luz. “These,” she said, “are all the pieces you can choose from for your mandatory Group I solo.”</p><p>“Mandatory solo?” Luz’s head spun as she stared at the paper. The fact that Willow had crumpled it into oblivion aside, the tiny font was hardly legible, and neither were the names of the songs once her focus zoned in. There was a Concerto in F, Concerto in D, Five Studies  in English Folk Song, <em> Six </em> Studies in English Folk Song, and at least four different pieces entitled Aria, among hundreds of others, most of which were French and thus very unpronounceable. She didn’t know how she’d go about picking one. But still- <em> mandatory solo?! </em></p><p>“Yep.” Luz envied Willow’s nonchalant attitude. She supposed that was the difference between her and a <em> real </em> Advanced Band student. “It’s for a grade. But you’ll be fine. You’ve played a Group I solo before, right?”</p><p>“Of course I have.” She knew nothing about contest, but Group I sounded like it'd be the easiest. Maybe performing a solo wouldn’t be so bad after all. There had been <em> sixth </em> graders participating in contest when she was in middle school.</p><p>Still, the thought of bringing her saxophone in front of a panel of judgy judges made her stomach flip.</p><p>“Good. Most of us have been doing Group I since freshman year. It’s just kind of the standard.”</p><p>“I heard that Amity did it when she was in eighth grade,” Gus added. “I bet it’s just a myth.”</p><p>“With Amity, it’s hard to tell.”</p><p>“Eighth grade?” Luz was puzzled. “When I was in sixth grade, a whole lot of my classmates went to contest.” Did that mean all of Glandus was <em> still </em> better than Amity Blight, the so-called savior of Hexside’s band program? She almost snorted at the idea. What a wake-up call that would be (if she ever got around to telling Amity the truth.)</p><p>Willow choked out a laugh. “I’m sure Glandus is prestigious and all, but sixth graders in Group I? That’s more of a death wish than a show of talent, and also, it has literally never happened. You’re just making shit up now, Luz.”</p><p>“I’m not. At the awards concert at the end of the year, my old director called the names of everyone who’d gone to contest, and it was like, seventy-five percent of the entire band.”</p><p>“Do you remember if your old director announced what level of solo your bandmates took?” Gus asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well-” Luz didn’t remember. He probably had, but she’d been totally zoned out throughout the entire thing. She couldn’t care less which of her classmates had been marked as predisposed for musical greatness, because she knew that she wasn’t one of them. “I don’t know. But it was probably Group I. Since that’s the easiest.”</p><p>Uneasiness spread through her chest when her two friends gave each other a knowing side eye. When they burst out in obnoxious laughter, however, she knew she’d said something wrong. <em> Well, shit. </em> She knew she couldn’t fake it forever… though she had expected to last more than two weeks. </p><p>Willow banged her fist on the table when she finally came up for air. “Luz!” she cried. Gus was still doubled over, clutching at his stomach. She wiped a tear out of her eyes. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Oh my god.”</p><p>Suddenly defensive, Luz straightened her posture. “What?”</p><p>“You’ve never done contest before.” Her friend sniffled, and bit her lip to stifle another giggle. “Even better, you’re a horrible liar.”</p><p>“I’m not lying about anything.”</p><p>“Luz, look at me.” Willow reached across the table and took both of Luz’s hands in hers. She squeezed them, her gaze alight with laugher. “An eighth grader playing a Group I solo is like, the equivalent of an eighth grade football player playing on the varsity high school team. It is the <em> hardest </em> group. Group V is the <em> easiest.” </em></p><p>Luz sniffed and pulled her arms back.“Well, maybe we just do it differently at Glandus.”</p><p>“I have friends at Glandus,” Gus interrupted, and crossed his arms smugly. “You don’t.”</p><p>“What’s next,” Willow joked, “you’re gonna tell us you’re not actually a member of the Banshee Orchestra and you’re just infiltrating?”</p><p>Luz supposed that her silence told her friends all they needed to know.</p><p>“Wow,” whispered Gus.</p><p>Willow shrugged. “Coulda fooled me. You’re a good actress. Maybe you should be a theatre kid instead.”</p><p>“When the band room blows up.” Praying the bell would ring soon, she grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “But it really isn’t a big deal, is it? Just promise you won’t tell anyone. It was just a schedule mistake that’s too late to fix.” She leaned in closer so they could hear her whisper. “And if you tell Amity, I will make sure that you don’t have enough breath left in your lungs to blow through an instrument.”</p><p>“Good thing I’m a percussionist,” Gus chirped. Both girls swiveled their gazes towards him. “What?” he defended himself. “You can trust me. I’m no snitch.”</p><p>The bell rang, and Luz let herself breathe a sigh of relief. “Remember. Not a word,” she growled. She readjusted her beanie and stalked off. “See you in jazz band.”</p><p>She kept her head down in the hallways. <em> Just get to history, </em> she told herself. She could worry later. Hopefully Willow and Gus would keep her secret safe. If she were kicked out of the advanced band now, she’d be humiliated beyond belief. Surely they didn’t <em> want </em> her to be kicked out. They were her best friends.</p><p>Lost in thought, she didn’t notice that something was slamming into her side until her back hit the wall. Pain shot down her spine and she gasped, her vision spinning. When she resurfaced, she saw a figure standing in front of her, and when she blinked, she made out who it was. Amity’s… friend. The weird trumpet player who always wore those edgy three-eyed sunglasses. Her lips curled into a sneer. “Boscha? What the fuck was that for?”</p><p>“You’ve been lying the whole time,” Boscha said forcefully. “I heard you talking at lunch. Your table’s right next to mine, you know. You’re not supposed to be here.”</p><p>She decided to feign innocence for the time being. “Be where? And why the hell are you shoving me into walls?”</p><p>“Because you’re a liar!” Boscha snapped. “The Banshee Orchestra is for people that are actually good. You just lied and snuck your way into it.”</p><p>“I didn’t lie or sneak my way into anything.”</p><p>Boscha’s eyes blazed. “When I tell Bump, he’ll throw you out.”</p><p>“Good luck talking after I break your jaw.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you try,” the other girl hissed.</p><p>Luz squared her shoulders, preparing to throw a punch right here in the middle of the crowded hallway. She knew it’d probably get her suspended, but what else could she do? Let Amity’s little henchmen talk her out of her fake dignity? Not in a million years.</p><p>“Both of you, cut it out.”</p><p>Boscha spun around. A small crowd had gathered around the quarrel, and Amity stood at the forefront. The flutist’s arms were crossed, and her golden gaze flicked disapprovingly back and forth between the two of them. </p><p>“Whose side are you on?” Boscha snarled. “You got <em> yourself </em> kicked out of pit, you know.”</p><p>“You deserved that,” Amity shot back. “Now, I’m just telling you to mind your own goddamn business.” When Boscha didn’t budge, she made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on. Get to class.” She looked back at Luz. “You’re lucky I saved you before you got hurt, you know.”</p><p>For a moment, all the breath left Luz’s lungs, and she was sure this wasn’t a side effect of getting shoved against a hard surface. <em> Save… saved me? Since when? </em></p><p>For all the show she was putting on, Boscha still ducked her head and obeyed. “Fine. But this isn’t over, new kid.” She ended up sounding a lot less threatening than she was probably going for.</p><p>Once Boscha was gone, the other kids dispersed as well, leaving Amity and Luz together in the corner of the hallway. Luz could only take a few seconds of awkward silence before she decided to make a run for it. “I’d better-” she began, but Amity stepped in front of her before she could go anywhere.</p><p>“Is it true?”</p><p>“Is what true?”</p><p>“That you’re not actually part of the advanced band.” Amity’s tone was cold and clipped. “That you got in by lying.”</p><p>“I didn’t get in by lying.” But then again, the more she thought about it, the less true it seemed. She could have easily switched on the first day of school, but she didn’t, because she was too much of a coward to make a fool of herself in front of Amity. Did lying indirectly still count? Oh, who cared? She was stuck with the consequences of her actions now. “It was a mistake on my schedule. I haven’t had the time to change it.”</p><p>“Sure you haven’t.”</p><p>“It really isn’t that big a deal.”</p><p>“It kind of is, actually,” Amity countered. “The Banshee Orchestra prides itself on being the best of the best. If we have musicians in our midst who haven’t earned their spot, what’s the point?”</p><p>“Chill out, Blight. It’s a high school band.” Maybe <em> Amity </em>should be a theatre kid. She certainly had a flair for the dramatic. </p><p>“You wouldn’t understand, because you clearly don’t take it as seriously as everyone else does.”</p><p>“Clearly!” She rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for having more of a personality than you do.”</p><p>Amity shoved herself into Luz’s space, fists balled at her sides. Mint-scented perfume washed over Luz, and she held back a cough. <em> Woah. </em> </p><p>Amity scowled. “You’re one to talk, Noceda. The only defining trait <em> you </em>have is showing up everybody in jazz band and being freakishly good at soloing. It’s hardly a personality at all.”</p><p>“Oh, like you aren't freakishly good at flute?”</p><p>“At least I earned my spot in the Banshee Orchestra.”</p><p>“And I earned my spot in the jazz band, so if you could shut up about that right now, it’d be really nice.”</p><p>“Fine,” Amity snapped. A small part of her seemed to deflate. “You know what? This is stupid. Just… go to class.” She stepped back, but not after grabbing Luz’s hand and slipping the spiked armband off her wrist. “And I’ll be taking this back, thank you very much.”</p><p>Luz blinked. “O-okay.”</p><p>Then she was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of mint behind as any indication that she’d been there at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Midwest Winters should be Illegal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the fact that like 60 people are subscribed to this is fuckign wild omg</p><p>also i forgot to mention this last chapter but shoutout to my fellow dress hating lesbian bass clarinetist from the comment section i feel u so bad</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cold, numb, and grouchy, Amity slammed the door behind her and paused in the doorway to shake off her snow-coated boots. She stalked through the wide living room and past her mother, Odalia, who was seated on the velvet couch. She didn’t even spare her mother a passing glance. Instead, she headed straight for the spiraling staircase, too achy and tired to care about any rebukes she’d have to endure.</p><p>“Amity, honey?” Odalia called loftily. “Don’t stomp so loud on the stairs, please.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Amity said gruffly. When she reached her room, she sat down on her bed and ran a hand through her hair.  It had been frozen through, and hung like icicles from her head. She resisted a sigh. Why had Odalia forced her to go shovel the (unfairly long, no less) driveway right after she’d showered? What a start to her morning. Saturdays existed so she could have a break from the emotional demands of school, not so that she could do favors for her mom. </p><p>And Odalia only ever made her do work when she wanted something. Or when she was about to start yelling. </p><p>And Amity couldn’t care less which it would end up being.</p><p>She rolled over onto her back and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. A notification flashed across her screen, and her first instinct was to ignore it. It was a text from Boscha.</p><p>Like she <em> ever </em> felt mentally strong enough to deal with that girl.</p><p>The text itself piqued her interest, though. <em> Hey i gotta ask u abt something, </em>it read. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew that if she didn’t find out immediately what that “something” was, it’d nag at her all day. So, against her better judgement, she opened it.</p><p>
  <em> what </em>
</p><p>Boscha’s three bubbles appeared instantly. <em> Can i call u. It is a MUCH better story out loud </em></p><p>
  <em> yeah, sure. whatever </em>
</p><p>The phone rang and Amity picked it up, selecting speaker so she didn’t have to press her cold phone to her still-frozen ears. “Blight!” Boscha greeted her delightedly. “Boy, have I got the tea for you!”</p><p>“I thought we both agreed to leave that expression in 2019.”</p><p>“I never agreed to it. Hey, before I tell you, Skara and I have been making plans. Do you wanna go out with us for drinks on Tuesday night?”</p><p>Amity raised an eyebrow at her invisible audience. “The night of the concert?”</p><p>“Exactly. Concert nights are always hell, so we might as well make them fun.”</p><p>“It depends.” She grabbed a pillow from the foot of her bed and held it to her chest, placing her phone back on her nightstand. “What exactly do you mean by that? Because I could interpret that multiple ways, and I’m not sure if I-”</p><p>“Have you forgotten that my parents own the biggest bar on this side of Bonesborough?” Boscha interrupted. “With the absolute best karaoke rooms?”</p><p>“Yeah, okay.” She decided right then that this conversation was not worth her time. “You are seventeen. <em> I </em>am seventeen.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“They’d never let you in.”</p><p>“Ha!” Her friend snorted. “You know my parents don’t give two shits about that kind of thing. It’ll be the best night ever. Stop being a wet blanket, Ami.”</p><p>“Maybe I have other plans.”</p><p>“You don’t.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Amity said tersely, already itching to hang up. “I reserve the right to refuse whatever social outings I please.”</p><p>“You’re boring. I think the new girl is making you soft.”</p><p>“Oh, so this is about her now, is it?”</p><p>“Yeah, actually. She’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”</p><p>Amity let her eyes slip shut. It wasn’t like Boscha was about to tell her anything she didn’t already know. <em> The new girl said something annoying in English class. The new girl picked a fight with me in the hallway. The new girl orchestrated a plan to trick Bump into conducting the Mii theme during the concert next week. </em>“M-hm.”</p><p>“She’s moving up to first chair in jazz after the concert. If you didn’t already know.”</p><p>Amity sat up so fast she banged her head against her headboard. Ignoring the shock of the pain, she grabbed her phone and screeched into it. <em> “What?” </em></p><p>She couldn’t tell if Boscha sounded more self-satisfied or angry. With her, it was usually a strange mix of the two, anyway. “Didn’t you hear anything she and her friends were talking about at lunch yesterday?”</p><p>“No? Why would I listen? I’m not an eavesdropper.” She may have held a passionate dislike for Luz Noceda, but she was still above listening in on her private conversations. Maybe she should, though, if that was the kind of thing being said. “Is that what you were about to deck her in the hallway for?”</p><p>“No, actually. Which brings me to my second point.”</p><p>“Oh, dear god.” There was no way that what Boscha was saying was actually true, but dealing with her fake rumors was nearly as exhausting as dealing with her real ones. She thought about all the other productive things she could be doing right now. Practicing her flute, practicing her sax, practicing both at the same time…  </p><p>“Luz is not-” she paused for dramatic effect- “actually part of the advanced band.”</p><p>Amity, frowned, confused. “I heard about that yesterday. There’s no way it’s true.” Even though Luz herself had confessed to it, there was still a brick wall between Amity and being able to accept that someone had infiltrated her band’s ranks. Of course she’s in the advanced band. I see her in there every day.”</p><p>“You don’t get it. Of course she’s <em> in </em>the advanced band-”</p><p>“But that’s what you just said.”</p><p>“-but she’s not actually supposed to be. I overheard her talking to Willow Park and Gus Porter, and she said that there’d been a scheduling problem. She was actually supposed to be in <em> intermediate </em>band, but her counselor fucked it up.”</p><p>“You’ve got to be <em> kidding </em> me.” As much as she wanted to doubt Boscha, she didn’t think Boscha would hurl <em> two </em>far-fetched accusations about Luz at the same time if they weren’t true. “Your little fake rumor is why you two were almost throwing punches yesterday?”</p><p>“You have to understand where I’m coming from.”</p><p>“Oh, I do.” The cold in her bones was replaced by a white-hot fury. Since the first day they’d met, she’d had a bad feeling about Luz. She could never shake the idea that the new girl didn’t quite belong- and she’d turned out to be right. Sooner or later she’d known that Luz would try dethroning her, and now was that time. She was woefully unprepared. “It’s true that she’s moving up, right? Why don’t you sound angry? She’s taking <em> your </em>spot.”</p><p>“That kind of thing is totally inconsequential. They could move me down to last chair for all I care. I just do band because I know I’m good at it. You, though… take it very seriously, for reasons I cannot currently fathom. The whole band program practically belongs to you, so being knocked down… It must be <em> humiliating.” </em>Amity could practically hear the mocking smile in her voice.</p><p>“I just like band,” she lied. It wasn't too far from the truth, but it was far enough. “But Noceda…” Luz nabbing her spot would be a huge blow to her ego (which, she suspected, wasn’t actually as big as most people thought it was.) “She never mentioned it to me, either.”</p><p>“Why would she? You’re not exactly friends.”</p><p>“Because it very much concerns me! And she obviously <em> knows </em>that it’s a big deal, because she was talking to her friends about it!”</p><p>“She probably thinks you’ll bite her head off if she tells you.”</p><p>“And you’re not helping. You’re lucky you didn’t get suspended yesterday. If she told me, I’d try-” She paused. Of course she’d <em> try </em>to keep her interaction with Luz civil, but Boscha knew as well as she did that her attempts would be fruitless. Luz was stealing something that- however inconsequential it’d seem to anyone else- meant  a whole lot to her. She couldn’t be the face of the jazz band if Luz was the lead saxophonist and she wasn’t.</p><p>“Well, the reed is out of the box now.” Boscha chuckled. “Just kidding. That physically pained me to say. I’m not a nerd. I have to go do… uh, stuff. Think about Tuesday, and also I want front row seats to the Blight-Noceda fistfight on Monday morning. Thanks, bye!” She hung up before Amity could get a word in edgewise. Not that Amity had anything to say to that entitled prick.</p><p>She lay on her back and contemplated in silence after that.</p><p>She didn’t want to shoot the messenger, but getting angry at Luz seemed… a little unfair. Sure, if what Boscha had said was true, she was very upset. And yet… Luz’s promotion wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t like she hadn’t earned it. She was an excellent jazz musician. (Just very mediocre in concert band.) She deserved to be the lead saxophone.</p><p>Amity forcibly shook her head like it’d rattle the thoughts out of her brain. What was she <em> thinking?</em> Just yesterday, she’d been so angry... she couldn’t turn to complacency now. that spot was <em>hers</em>. </p><p>Not that she actually had it at the moment.</p><p>And it wasn’t like she’d be demoted from first chair on her flute. If nothing else, she still had <em>that </em>going for her. If Luz even tried to hold a flute, she’d probably break it. </p><p>With that, her thoughts returned to the Banshee Orchestra. Was Boscha spreading pointless rumors, or had Luz really lied? If she was being honest with herself, she wouldn’t have even noticed that Luz was all that out of place. Luz was much better at jazz, but she was still hardworking, and that made up for any lack of concert music prowess.</p><p>Not that she’d been listening all the way back to the sax section just to hear Luz play.</p><p>Of course she hadn’t.</p><p>A knock on her door made her jump, and her heart plummeted. She’d recognize that knock anywhere. It was clean, pristine, and shot right through her skull. At least, unlike her father, her mother bothered to knock at all. “Come in.”</p><p>Odalia cracked open the door and poked her head inside. “Dearest Amity,” she said, thin lips curing into a smile. “I’d like to share some exciting news with you. May I sit down?”</p><p>“I already told you to come in.” If Odalia was offended by her daughter’s sass, she didn’t show it. She merely took a seat at the foot, never losing her unnerving smile. </p><p>“Your roots are growing in,” she commented. “Brown hair looks nice on you. You should leave it be for a while, hm? All the green makes your hair look fake. It’s bad enough that your siblings dye theirs such an atrocious color.”</p><p><em> Let my roots grow in? And look just like you and Dad? No way. </em> If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she might have considered re-dying her hair just to spite her parents. Too bad the process was so tedious. With the concert and contest coming up, she simply didn’t have the time. “So, what’s the news?”</p><p>“Your father just received a very exciting promotion,” Odalia answered. She sounded less like she was making a big announcement and more like she was informing her that the neighbor’s dog had just died.<br/>
Plus- <em> great. First Luz and now Dad. </em>Was she the only one who was going to be stuck at rock bottom forever?</p><p>She felt like there was a punchline to her mom’s declaration, but silence pressed against them for a few agonizing moments first.</p><p>“And we’re going to hold a celebration on Tuesday evening in honor of him.”</p><p>Well. There it was. “Mom, that’s the night of the concert.”</p><p>“Is it?” Odalia’s airy tone suggested that she hadn't really forgotten. “Oh, dear. You’ll have to join us afterwards, then. You know, Amity, I really wish that your little band things would stop getting in the way of your family life. This is a very big deal for your father and he’d like you to be there for it.”</p><p>“It’s not my fault the concert’s on Tuesday,” Amity defended herself. “And you know how important concerts are to me. I can’t just skip it.”</p><p>“I’m not asking you to. I just wonder sometimes…” She sighed dramatically. “Why do your little instruments matter to you so much?”</p><p>“Because playing music is fun. Because I’m good at it.”</p><p>“You're good at lots of things, though. You used to be great at volleyball, before you quit. Maybe you should go back to that.”</p><p>“Mom, I’m not joining the volleyball team again. I didn’t even like it. The other girls on it were jerks.”</p><p>“But you can earn scholarships with sports. Musicians get nowhere in life, and no daughter of mine will spend her days on the streets.”</p><p>“I never said I wanted to play professionally.” She didn’t admit that the idea had occurred to her more than once.</p><p>I just think it might be good for you to engage in a more normal activity for once.”</p><p>“What isn’t normal about band? I’m the top player!” <em> For now, at least. </em>“And it’s really fun. Don’t you want me to be happy?”</p><p>Odalia’s eyes narrowed. “I remember what the band students were like when I was in high school. I only want you to make our family proud.”</p><p>“Well, by belittling my hobbies and talents, you make the family look pretty damn shitty.”</p><p>“Amistasia Blight!” Odalia roared. She was on her feet quicker than a flash, and Amity flinched. “You are not to use such language in my presence! Do you understand?”</p><p>“Uh.” She swallowed. “Sure.”</p><p>“Young lady, I have not come to expect such insolence from you. You are lucky to have been born a Blight. Do you understand?”</p><p>Her eyes met the carpet. “Yes.”</p><p>“Good.” Odalia spun and made for the door. “I’m disappointed in your attitude. You will inform your band director that you will be unable to make it on Tuesday. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>“Of course, Mother.”</p><p>“Thank you, Amity. Now, please come downstairs. You did a fine job shoveling the driveway, but I need you to do the sidewalk next.”</p><p>Then the door slammed shut, leaving Amity’s ears ringing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>amity’s full name is brought to you by i wrote most of this chapter while sitting in rehearsal for the anastasia musical<br/>also i thought the idea of amity actually being a nickname was cute lol</p><p>almost time for the concert 👀</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Deal with the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i noticed the inconsistencies in the last chapter and i tried to fix them so thanks for pointing them out lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing that ruined Luz’s Monday was getting a text from Willow saying that she’d gotten sick and would be missing school. Disappointed as Luz was, she wished Willow a quick recovery and promised herself she’d swing by with a Hershey bar and a balloon or something after school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second thing that ruined her day was the fact that her car wouldn’t start because it was so goddamn cold outside. February in the Midwest sucked. She barely made it to school on time, after huffing about the lack of a delayed start despite the temperature the whole way there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third thing that ruined her day was being called into Bump’s office before she even had the chance to put her instrument together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she hesitantly crossed the band room on the way to his office, she realized that Amity wasn’t in class- and the bell had already rung. It was unlike her to be late. She was probably absent, like Willow was. (Luz had no idea why she was upset by this. Amity being gone was a good thing… wasn’t it?.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The director was hunched over his desk when she entered, hands clasped together. If his stern expression wasn’t enough to scare her, then the fact that Boscha stood at his side with her arms folded across her chest and the most infuriating smile ever on her face would have done the trick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, and there was Amity, who, for the first time since Luz had met her, looked terrified out of her mind. Her face was pale as snow (even moreso than usual) and her golden eyes flicked about nervously like she expected something to jump out at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s heart plummeted. She knew exactly what this was about.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But why did Amity look </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Miss Noceda,” Mr. Bump began. Oh no. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Noceda </span>
  </em>
  <span>was never a good sign. “Thank you for stopping by this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her throat went dry. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d just like to take a moment to address a small issue brought to my attention by Boscha and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miss Blight.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz made brief eye contact with Amity, but the flutist bit her lip and looked to the ground. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What, are you in trouble too?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she longed to ask, but she guessed that insinuating that the perfect Amity could ever get in trouble would only serve to enrage her. A scared </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>angry Amity was not something she wanted to deal with in the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boscha revealed to me that you were actually assigned to the intermediate band upon your transfer, but lied and asked the counselor to change your schedule. Is that true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The accusation was jarring- it wasn’t all what she’d expected Bump to say. “What?” she cried, incredulous. Who did Bump think she was? She hadn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be in the advanced band. There had just been no way she could have asked for a schedule change in front of Amity. She’d been placed here by pure mistake- a mistake she’d just never bothered to correct. ”Of course it’s not. I was put here on accident, I just- haven’t had a chance to talk to the counselor about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha piped up. “That’s funny. Amity said that you were in the counselor’s office when she met you a couple weeks ago. Couldn’t you have asked for help then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Great, she really had backed herself into a corner, hadn’t she? “I guess?” she offered weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you were lying about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t lying. It was an honest mistake. Seriously. Something wrong with the computer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun using that to explain the conversation you were having with Park and Porter on Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What </span>
  </em>
  <span>conversation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know which story is true,” Bump said. “I have a hard time believing that a band student would cheat their way into something, but at the same time… Boscha is one of my top players, and she cares deeply about the program. It takes a special kind of person to find it amusing to upset other people. I suppose you could chalk it up to immaturity, or low self esteem, or whatever else will justify it, but Miss Noceda, if she’s right, this is unacceptable behavior.” At this, Boscha’s smirk widened. “She would never throw around false accusations about a fellow musician. If she’s right, I’ll have to revoke your membership in the advanced jazz band as well, despite knowing you earned that spot fairly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then why take it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Okay, so say Boscha’s telling the truth, which she isn’t. What does this have to do with Amity? Isn’t she your ‘top student’ too?” She used air quotes, and Amity broke out of her fearful stupor for a moment to scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity came by this information first, and kept it to herself for several days. This, along with her out-of-character outburst in the pit, makes me wonder if she really is the top student I thought she was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz felt an unexpected flash of pity for Amity. Hearing words like that said about her- as if she wasn’t even there- must have stung.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Not that she didn’t deserve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true!” Amity cried. “Boscha almost got into a fight with Luz because she was so upset about it. I only learned about it because I had to break them up!” She pointed an accusing finger at her friend. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> she dramatically called me on Saturday like I had no clue what was going on, and related the story to me again very excitedly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough,” Bump replied sharply. “Miss Blight, Miss Noceda. I’m very unhappy with you both. Nothing adds up here, but I’m inclined to believe Boscha, since she is one of my most reliable students. Miss Blight’s restriction from the pit is still ongoing, so that will serve as her punishment for this as well. Miss Noceda, you will be moved to the intermediate band and will stay there for the rest of the semester. In addition, you will not perform in tomorrow night’s concert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not protest. You should hardly consider this a punishment at all. You will be with a group that will better reflect your skill.” He arched an eyebrow when the three girls remained in his office, staring at him stoically. “Well? What are you waiting for? You’re dismissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s nerves sizzled as she spun to return to the band room. How dare he just demote her like that? Why did he believe that smug-faced, jerk-ass trumpet player instead? Luz hadn’t exactly grown used to the Banshee Orchestra’s difficulty jump, but… she had come to enjoy the challenge. She’d even grown fond of listening to Amity warm up before class. Annoying as she was, Luz had to begrudgingly admit that Amity wasn’t wrong when she said that she knew she was the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped in the doorway when someone called out behind her. “Wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice didn’t belong to Bump, or even Boscha. It was Amity who had spoken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, and Bump looked only slightly more annoyed than usual. Regardless, neither of them looked pleased, but Amity pressed on.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Tell me something,” she said. “Before this, would you have guessed that Luz didn’t belong here? Because you never seemed to have an issue with it. She fit in with the rest of us just fine before Boscha started making stuff up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she hadn’t been trying to hold a professional demeanor, Luz’s jaw would have fallen open. She might have been misinterpreting things, but it almost sounded like Amity was </span>
  <em>
    <span>defending</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. Amity must have been terrified if she was stooping to that level. Defending her sworn rival? Luz wouldn’t have believed it if she weren’t seeing it with her own eyes, and even then she found it hard to believe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t make anything up,” Boscha interjected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bump took a little longer to reply. He still looked frustrated, but at least he was hearing Amity out. “I’d never doubted her jazz abilities, but I had questions about her concert ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she still worked hard. Despite the fact that she’d never performed with a group quite like this one, she still tried her best to adapt. That’s what the Banshee Orchestra is all about, right? Hard work and willingness to learn? That’s what you always told us at the beginning of the year. You said that we’ve all made it this far because we were hard workers and we actually wanted to try. I’d say Luz fits that criteria very well.” She gave Luz a glance that made her heart flip in her chest. “Who’s to say she doesn’t belong here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boscha gave a few disbelieving stammers. “A-A-Are you insane? Of course she doesn’t belong here.” She stomped over to Amity and thrust her face close to her friend’s. Amity jerked back angrily. “What ever happened to ‘the good of the band?’” she said angrily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the good of the band,” Amity retorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a point,” admitted Bump begrudgingly. “But I’m hesitant-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be! Listen to me, for once, and don’t just accept that I’m gonna be a doormat just because I’m one of your best musicians.  If I can… grow to sort of respect Luz, then you can, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz was stunned into silence. A snarky remark sat on her tongue- </span>
  <em>
    <span>took you long enough, Blight-</span>
  </em>
  <span> but she couldn’t force it out. Amity was defending her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amity was trying to make her stay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bump cleared his throat. “Your words are brave, Miss Blight. You have a way with them. Your argument is almost compelling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please let me stay.” Begging was the last thing Luz wanted to do, and she hated to willingly agree with Amity- even about something like this- but if she could just coax Bump over the edge… maybe it would be worth it. “I really like this band. I like being challenged. And I understand that I might not be your strongest player, but I’m willing to work hard… for the good of the Banshee Orchestra.” Ugh. She sounded like an overpowered movie protagonist giving a corny speech. This was just high school band. It was hardly a big deal at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Amity had roped her into it, and now somehow, it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. You may stay in the band for another month to prove yourself. If you or Miss Blight step a foot out of line, you’ll both be sent down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief flooded her chest, and she broke into a grin. “Oh my god. Wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are dismissed,” he said tersely, then added, “for real this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying her best to suppress her excitement, Luz ducked her head to him and departed out the office door. “Thank you!” she yelled over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Amity followed, she’d have to have a word with her. Whatever those things that Amity has just said actually meant… they had been very out of character.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Amity caught up a heartbeat later. She breezed past Luz, but Luz caught her shoulder, and she stopped. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Amity snapped, whirling to face her. Gone was the protective, defensive version of her from just a moment ago, having been replaced by the cold, aloof girl Luz had come to know over the past month. “I don’t want to hear a word, but I guess I will anyway.” She crossed her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, first of all, damn, Blight.” Luz wiggled her eyebrows, and Amity flushed a deep red. “So you do want me here after all. I knew you secretly loved me.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not. That was all a show. Don’t get your neck strap in a twist,” she growled. She turned to head towards her own section, but ever persistent, Luz tagged after her.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was so nice of you. You might as well just kiss me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Noceda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m Noceda. Wasn’t I Luz just a moment ago?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, new girl.” Amity didn’t stop walking. “I worked my ass off to build this band, and I don’t want any drama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not being dramatic. In fact, I’ll go back to my section right now.” Amity ignored her, sitting down in her seat and getting her flute out of its case. “Y’know, this feels oddly familiar. But it’s still so </span>
  <em>
    <span>different. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’re going to be in a concert together tomorrow! Isn’t that awesome?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going,” Amity replied tersely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz blinked at her. “But- why? You’re the top flute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents forbade me from attending. It’s a long story. I don’t really feel like explaining it, especially not to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, why do you have to obey them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no other option.” Amity’s voice was taut as she pulled out her music and set it up neatly on her stand. “I’ve never done that. And I’d never dare to, not on that scale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was silent for a moment. “I love concerts so much. I wish you didn’t have a point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make you a deal. Come to the concert tomorrow night anyway, as a big fuck you to your parents, and I won’t talk to you for a whole week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” She regarded Luz curiously. “Make it a month and you’ve got yourself a deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t regret this,” Luz promised. Amity muttered an acknowledgment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having done her job, she spun and retreated back up the ramp next to the band’s stadium seating. She hated to go back to the director’s office so soon, but an idea had just sprung into her mind when Amity had spoken of the concert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter her motivation, she’d restored Luz’s spot in the Banshee Orchestra- and now Luz needed a way to properly tell her thank you.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>concert!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! next chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Oh, How the Turns Table</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don’t have a concert for another 2 weeks why do these people get one it’s so unfair</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Okay, close your eyes. Keep them closed. I have to show you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thirty-six hours after the confrontation with Bump had passed quickly, somehow, despite concert days always being the slowest and most agonizing days ever. Now it was going on seven, and it was nearly the Banshee Big Band’s call time. Amity felt alive with adrenaline. Annoyed as she was with her current situation, she couldn’t deny her excitement. Opportunities for her to prove herself were rare. Coupled with the defiance of her parents, making even being at the school  tonight feel scandalous, this was quickly shaping up to be the most… unique concert night yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate this,” she said. “I feel like you’re going to take me somewhere and murder me.” Nevertheless, she let her eyes slip shut, and she felt Luz loop their arms together, sending a shiver down her spine. The contact made her feel strange, but she didn’t mind it… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I murder you as a thank you?” Luz teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I can get out of your band.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s my band now? What a high honor. I can’t believe it. You must really love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I mean,” Amity retorted. “Why are you thanking me, anyway? I don’t have anything to thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For saving my ass, that’s what. You defended me, against all odds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was completely out of character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll never happen again. Hey, whatever happened to not talking to each other? The sooner that can start, the better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll begin on Monday. Let’s get through the concert first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If her eyes hadn’t been closed, Amity would have rolled them. Instead, she stayed pressed nerve-wrackingly close to Luz. The creak of a door sounded, and the musty scent of the barely-used uniform closet hit her. Luz’s weight against her side disappeared. “Wait here,” she instructed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not taking orders from you, Noceda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad.” There was a faint clicking noise, then the ruffling of fabric. A couple seconds passed before Luz spoke again. “Okay, you can open ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity blinked open her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz stood in front of her, wearing an ador- annoyingly goofy, lopsided grin. In each hand, she held matching black tuxes, the very ones Amity had yearned to wear since she’d been chosen for the advanced bands last year. The tags on the hangers read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noceda</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>respectively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her  a moment to process exactly what Luz had done for her. “Holy shit,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz bounced twice on her heels. “I know, right? It took me forever to convince Bump, considering the day we had. But I did it. And now we can </span>
  <em>
    <span>maaaatch!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sang the last word as if she was getting ready for a choir concert and not a band one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity reached out and shoved her shoulder. “I would hate matching with you.” Luz stuck out her tongue in response, so Amity took the opportunity and grabbed her hanger from Luz’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wow. These tuxes were even cooler than she’d imagined. Immaculately tailored, the creases were crisp and the fabric soft to the touch. And she’d get to </span>
  <em>
    <span>wear </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, too. Her heart fluttered at the thought. She’d look amazing up on stage, flute in hand. Maybe even Luz would think she looked amazing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait. Why did she care about that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to thank Luz. She wanted to put aside their differences for just a moment to thank her for what she’d done. Considering the state of their relationship, it was a very kind gesture indeed. She had the grateful sentiment all ready in her mind, but when she opened her mouth, what came out was “Go away. I have to change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna change in here?” Luz asked. “I thought you said we were supposed to use the bathrooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Arrgh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She ran an agitated hand through her hair, which had been redyed and pulled into an extra-fancy half ponytail for the occasion. “Never mind. You suck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just want to change with me,” Luz joked. At least, Amity hoped she was joking. “I know I’m a catch, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go,” Amity said forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shrugged but didn’t protest. “Bye! I’ll help you, though, if you need it!” she yelled after her. Amity didn’t hear- she’d already slammed the door behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steady buzz of the gathering band enveloped her as she screwed her mouthpiece onto her saxophone. Her heart pounded, but not out of nervousness. Okay, fine. Maybe out of a little bit of nervousness. She had a solo right before Luz’s in not one but two pieces in the jazz band’s lineup, and she was terrified that Luz would outshine her both times. It wouldn’t be hard, and she didn’t want to lose any of her remaining dignity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the tux would help. She absolutely loved it. As much as she adored the pink sundress she wore to school on at least a weekly basis, this just felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>different.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She felt like she could take on the world, and maybe even Luz’s frustrating soloing skill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bunch of kids were beginning to cluster at the back doors of the band room, so she joined them. Boscha, not at all minding her fragile (and probably dry) reed, spun in circles, showing off her flowy dress to her bandmates. None of them looked particularly impressed (as they were all wearing the exact same thing.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow and Gus were leaned against the wall, heads bent together and talking in hushed voices. She was about to approach them to ask where Luz was when she felt a tap on her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There</span>
  </em>
  <span> she was.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Luz smiled. “Hey, Amity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity opened her mouth, but it appeared that her vocal chords had been totally shot and that her breath had been stolen from her chest. Luz’s easy smile sent a jolt of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>through her heart. The way Luz looked in her tux certainly didn’t help either. She was barely even recognizable. The snarky, tackily-dressed Luz of the school day was gone, and she’d been replaced by somebody completely different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Amity realized the other saxophonist’s hand was resting on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she snapped, drawing sharply away. “You do one nice thing for me, and you think we’re suddenly friends? Shouldn’t you be over there with those too?” She jerked her head at Willow and Gus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I wanted to see you?” Luz replied cheekily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity gave her a halfhearted shove. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “I just wanted to tell you to break a leg, but whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll break yours first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she laughed, and Amity’s heart almost fluttered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, the performance excitement must really be getting to me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amity thought. “No matter,” she said briskly. “I have to go tune. Please go with your other friends. I need to focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz reluctantly agreed, and crawled like a dejected puppy over to Willow and Gus. Amity rolled her eyes as she pushed through the doors that led into the hallway, listening to the way her fancy platform boots clicked on the hard floor. This outfit made her feel like she could do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d only been in the auditorium and tuned for a few minutes when Luz plopped down next to her in her third-chair spot. She was still sorting through her music, so she didn’t look up when Luz asked if she was ready. Swing piece first, then the samba, and finally the rock tune. She’d hate to accidentally have something out of order. Her adrenaline was going so fast that she wouldn't have been surprised if she were to make such a rookie mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Maybe, if she did everything just right, Bump would let her stay in second chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe this would be her last concert above dead last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was even harder to believe that she didn’t feel a single twinge of anger when she thought about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been the excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” she said, remembering Luz had asked her a question. “More than ready.” Ready for Luz to crush her into the ground with her smooth jazz skills, maybe. At least her parents weren’t here to witness her humiliation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like another million years before Bump stepped up to the podium and addressed the crowd. The full auditorium fell silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome, Hexside families,” he began. “I’d like to welcome you to the mid-winter band concert…” He droned on for a while, giving Amity time to zone out. He said something about sponsors… </span>
  <em>
    <span>we finally got new tubas for the first time in twenty years</span>
  </em>
  <span>… nice. “And now, for your first performance of the night… please welcome the Banshee Big Band!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, they were off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity didn't have a solo in the first piece. She supposed the whole thing went fine. It could have been better, but hey, she was only the second alto, what could she have done?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the second piece, she knocked her solo out of the park. Luz just knocked it </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> far she probably hit someone in a stadium a state over with her flurries of fast-paced runs. Some of the parents certainly had that look on their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, the piece was… alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she geared up for her second solo and adjusted her mic, she ran through her mental checklist. Runs. Repetition. Pauses. Articulation. Dynamics. She just had to utilize those things, and she’d be golden, better than Luz, even, if she tried hard enough. </span>
  <em>
    <span>G Mixolydian, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she reminded herself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t play an F sharp.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She braced herself for attack (in both senses of the word), and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a single note came out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic rose in her chest as the backgrounds continued to carefreely play. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She touched her finger to her reed. It was drier than her whole goddamn love life, if she had to make an estimate. How had that happened so quickly? She’d spend plenty of time wetting it before the concert had officially begun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, the reed was also brand new. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Amity’s grand logistical oversight of the semester. By the time she managed to squawk a few notes out on the stiff-as-a-board reed, her sixteen measures were up, and she was forced to retreat back to her seat with her bell between her legs. Boscha offered her a snarky remark as she sat, but she couldn’t bring herself to try to hear it.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Then Luz strutted up to the mic and played the best solo Amity had ever heard her play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the song passed in a blur, as did the Banshee Orchestra’s performance immediately after. Her flute felt strange and out of place in her hands, and she felt like she was messing up, though she couldn’t place exactly why. Even Bump caught on to her distraction and tasked her with moving all the chairs and music stands into the wings when everyone was done. This just made her heart sink further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt strangely at home in the silent auditorium. The stage lights were still on, their harsh light driving itself into her eyes, but she didn’t care and didn’t stop to breathe until she’d cleaned up the entire seating setup just as she’d been asked. Even though she was clearly falling from her position at the top of the entire program, she could still show that she was loyal to the band, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the very last chair had been stacked, a voice sounded behind her. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t bother to turn. “Go away, Luz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps inched closer to her. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>go away.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“One mistake isn’t a big deal. But I understand-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t!” Giving in, she whirled on Luz with fury. “One mistake is a very big deal! You’ve never been the best. You’ve never had to fight to be at the top like I have, with even your whole family opposing you every step of the way. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> make mistakes. And to you, maybe one messed up solo doesn’t mean anything. But for me, it’s kind of the worst thing I could possibly do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Luz said, cracking a facetious smile. Changed out of her tux, she once again resembled the Luz Amity knew. “At least you didn’t mess up </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>your solos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity glared at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She backed away. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault,” Amity muttered back. “But it’s still gonna hurt my chances. Just- have fun in first chair next week. I know I would if I were you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s dark eyes flashed with alarm. “You know about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boscha told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like broken fucking record with all those apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m s-” Luz caught herself and swallowed. “Never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity approached the edge of the stage and gazed out over hundreds of empty seats. She knew she should go- that she should just go somewhere, anyway, because she certainly couldn’t go home, but something was pulling her here, a strange magnetic force that was keeping her boots bolted to the stage. Anything would be better than going home, seeing her parents and all their friends, hearing their drunken screams. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You went to a band concert while we held a party and exercised the restraint of a preschooler? You’re such an awful child!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz came to stand by her, facing her, brown gaze contemplative. “You don’t seem angry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” It was true. As for why, she couldn’t even begin to fathom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back up into the harsh stage lights, wincing when her eyes burned. “Because you earned it.” She looked back at Luz. Her vision swam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz didn’t say anything at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came here on the first day of the semester and my gut told me right away that you were going to mess with the order around here. I should have listened to it. And now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really hate me?” Luz blurted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shocked, Amity met the other saxophonist’s eyes again. “I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it,” she went on bluntly. “I don’t get you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Amity said, very intelligently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hate Luz? Her mind told her yes. She’d hated Luz since the beginning. Her cocky smile, her bad sense of fashion, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>talent.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d hated it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But did she really? Or was she simply hiding behind a fortress she’d built for herself- the facade of being someone far greater than she really was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz, I don’t-” She exhaled shakily. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz didn’t say anything. She just kept watching her calmly without a single judgement in her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity liked the way the stage lights illuminated everything around her. It made her look majestic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know what inspired her to do it. Maybe it was the way the lights beat down on her back that was messing with her mind, or maybe it was simply a result of the adrenaline in her veins left over from the performance. Maybe she’d been yearning for this all along and only now understood why. Maybe it was simple instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, kissing Luz felt like magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And realizing that Luz was gently cupping her face and kissing her back was even more wonderful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frantic ferver took over her and she pressed ever closer. She wrapped her arms around Luz’s waist, and Luz reciprocated, moving one hand and threading it through her hair, sending shivers across every inch of her body. She pulled away for a brief moment, but then Luz was kissing her again, and an intoxicated haze fell over them. Everything outside the Hexside High auditorium slowed to standstill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s hand drifted back to her face, and she began to softly trace her thumb against Amity’s cheek. If Amity hadn’t been gripping the sleeves of Luz’s flannel so tightly, she was sure she would have passed out. She couldn’t, though. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this until she finally had it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the need for oxygen forced them back apart, and panting, she rested her forehead on Luz’s shoulder, not ready to let go quite yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz ran a gentle hand through her hair. “Okay, now I’m even more confused,” she admitted</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Me too,” Amity breathed. “I don’t know why I did that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you still hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s a safe bet to say that I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hope so. You’re a good kisser.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a flutist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touche.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz, I can’t go back home tonight,” Amity said shakily. She didn’t know why she was still talking. Wasn’t this where they both said. ‘wow, that was weird,’ vowed to never speak of it again, and went their separate ways? That’s how it usually went, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my parents.” There was no backing down now. “They’re having a work party at the manor, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz snorted. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>manor?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why am I not surprised?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and listen. It’s loud there. It’s lonely. There’s too much all the time, and… you know I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I don’t know what to do. I can’t go home. My mom will literally kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. “You can come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat washed over Amity’s face. Alone with Luz, being saved from her parents. And to think they’d been arguing just that afternoon. This had to be a dream. “You mean… to your house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I live in an apartment, but yeah. It’s not much compared to where you live. But it’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Oh, wow. Band. Yes.” She coughed in embarrassment. What had happened to her? Had kissing a girl one time flipped her entire personality on its head?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz took her hand and squeezed. “You’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing defiantly, she swatted her away. “Nice try, Noceda. Don’t go getting sappy on me yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just follow me. I’ll drive.” Luz bounded off, beaming playfully over her shoulder. “We’ll go on an adventure!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity followed, more slowly. Her lips were still tingling. She hoped she could kiss Luz again. Not because she liked her, obviously. Just because it had been very nice, and her lips had been so soft, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing she’d stopped, she quickened her pace until she’d caught up with Luz. “Of course,” she called. “But this doesn’t mean I like you now!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hhhhhhhhhhhhh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Night Everything Changed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If someone had told Luz a month ago that on the day of the Hexside midwinter band concert she’d end up making out with her rival and then dragging her off into the middle of the night in order to help her avoid her weird parents, she might not have laughed, but she definitely would have wondered about their sanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she was wondering about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> sanity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though she knew she shouldn’t take her eyes off the road, she risked a glance over at Amity, who was curled up in the passenger seat (without her seatbelt on because she insisted on “not looking weak in front of someone she didn’t like”). Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her narrowed gaze was focused on something just outside the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was uncomfortable, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity grumbled, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “What a dumbass I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think it’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity pressed herself further into the corner. “I don’t know why I agreed to come with you. I’d much rather just go back home and deal with my parents.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz didn’t know whether that remark was sarcastic or not, so she didn’t reply directly. “We’re going somewhere nice. I think you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, darkness had fallen over the wide fields and forests that surrounded Hexside, and thanks to the school’s remote location, countless stars were visible overhead. Ever since moving over the summer, she had found her new life away from the larger city of Glandus stressful. Thankfully, the countryside wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>awful, and she’d quickly found a new spot to relax when her stress caught up to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned wordlessly around corners and down countless county roads. The only sound she could still hear was the pounding of her own heart. Her mind was speeding at a million miles an hour, and her thoughts swam with confusion. Her instinct right now was screaming at her </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, you really want to kiss Amity again, don’t you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> while the more common sense side of her brain scoffed at the idea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is Amity Blight, remember? The girl you swore from day one to mess with, and nothing more?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached their destination, Luz pulled over to the side of the road and hopped out. When she crossed over to the other side of the car, she pulled Amity’s door open and smirked, inviting her out. “Ladies first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity sniffed disdainfully, but exited the car anyway. “If you weren’t such a damn good kisser, I wouldn’t even consider letting you lead me into the dark woods to probably murder me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that mean you want to kiss me again?” Luz raised her eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Even in the darkness, though, she could see Amity blushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved at Amity to follow her. “I figured coming out here might be able to clear your head. That’s why I love it here so much. It gives me peace of mind, and I can only imagine how confused you must be right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not confused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this is barely better than whatever my parents are doing right now. God, they’re gonna kill me in the morning. Remind me why I’m here again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m a good kisser. You said so yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” Amity seethed. “Goddamn it, Noceda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh. Look.” Pulling her phone from her pocket, Luz turned on the flashlight and shone it up the hill they stood at the foot of. A huge stone slab jutted out from the hillside about halfway up, with a smaller one below it, forming a small cavern that was dug into the soil. It was surrounded by leafless trees, and somewhere nearby, a small brook babbles quietly. “It’s my favorite place for stargazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity eyed her warily. “I’m not stargazing with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you shouldn’t have offered to come.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they climbed the hill, she realized that the air was absolutely frigid tonight. Amity stalked along at her side, not appearing to be bothered in the slightest. Maybe it was because Luz had only brought a t-shirt and jeans to change into once she took her tux off, while she was tucked up comfortably in her letterman jacket. Either way, she was jealous. She was sure she was visibly shivering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crested the hill, Amity hissing complaints about dirt and twigs the whole way. Luz jogged to the end of the stone slab and let out a heavy breath, watching it cloud in the air. “Hey, Amity,” she gasped. “C’mere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity appeared instantly at her side. “What do you want-” she began, but cut herself off when she saw what Luz was looking at. “Oh, wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An endless sky of stars stretched over them, vanishing over the black of the horizon. A soft whispering breeze drifted over the treeline of the woods, and in the very furthest reaches of their line of vision, the headlights of cars on the interstate twinkled. Luz wondered for a split second if she was looking to the edge of the earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I can see why you like it here,” Amity admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad.” Luz sat down, waving at Amity to join her. The stone was cold, and she shuddered again. Curse February. This month sucked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity lowered herself down beside her and gave her a rueful glance. “I can’t believe you didn’t bring a jacket,” she said. “Watching you shiver like a helpless little toddler is giving me secondhand embarrassment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d be coming out here tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have just left me at the school, you know. Left me to go home. I would have been fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t do that in good conscience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.” Amity lowered her chin to rest it on her knees. For a few moments, she didn’t say anything, but then she gave a frustrated sigh and began to slide her coat off. “Alright, fine. But only since you asked so nicely. I would never do this on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz accepted the jacket eagerly. It was thick and warm and wearing it felt like a hug, which was the sort of thing she never felt like she got enough of. Plus, knowing that it was Amity’s, and that Amity’s name was even stitched permanently on the front gave her a strange sort of thrill. “Now you’re gonna be cold. You’re going soft, Blight,” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I am,” Amity shot back. “And what of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Safely snuggled into Amity’s jacket, she tossed an arm around the flutist’s shoulders, and was surprised to feel her lean into the touch. “Where were we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity tilted her head up. Her sharp, golden eyes bored into Luz’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz murmured something not quite distinguishable, and, without even having to think, cupped Amity’s cheek with her hand. Their movements were strangely coordinated, considering, and their second kiss felt far more intentional than their first. Amity’s embrace was strangely gentle, but the contact still sent electricity through every one of Luz’s nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I could do that all night,” Luz breathed when they had parted, her voice barely a rasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why don’t we? You may be annoying, but you’re not half bad at that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blight.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She relished the embarrassment on Amity’s face at the name. “You can’t just play hard to get for like, a month, and then turn around like all that never happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity snorted. “Well, you’re just impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned. “Maybe. Hey, how about this.” She jumped to her feet. “What do you say we play a game? I’ll give you another kiss if you can come and get it from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you’re on.” Eyes glimmering in the darkness with playful competitiveness, Amity lunged for Luz, but Luz was too quick. She dodged just in time, leaving Amity to nearly crash into a tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, two can play at that,” Amity growled, flashing her a smug grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you can’t catch me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Good luck, Noceda!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz took off, tearing through the trees at lightning speed. She could hear Amity’s footsteps pounding against the leaf-littered ground behind her. When her lungs began to burn, she slowed her pace. Not that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amity to win- it was just cold, and she was tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weight slammed into her back, and she crumpled to the ground. Her back hit it first, followed by Amity landing with an indignant squawk on top of her. Amity struggled to sit up, but found herself straddling Luz’s torso. She scrambled away as soon as she realized how close they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I win?” she asked stiffly, red-faced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Luz grinned and sat up beside her. “Do you want what you came for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Not because I like you,” she murmured, closing the distance between them. Bliss passed over Luz, and she let their surroundings fade away into nothing. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to keep the girl in her arms close forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t even rebuke herself for having such a sappy thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her a long time to come to her senses. When she did, she rested her forehead against Amity’s, feeling the other girl’s soft breath ghost her cheek. She couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity shoved her away playfully. “Not a word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. No I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity likes me! She likes me! She likes me!” Luz crowed. The deeper Amity frowned, the harder she giggled. Amity was so funny when she was feigning annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a jerk, is what you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz laughed and fell back onto the cold grass. “Come here. Look at the stars with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I wasn’t going to stargaze with you. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sappy,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amity snapped. Nevertheless, she flopped down next to Luz and snuggled into her shoulder. Luz pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she let out a noise that was somewhere along the lines of half-growl and half-squeak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Luz said. “How’s your piece for contest coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of your business,” Amity replied, then paused. “My solo is going to be astounding. I’m going to wipe the floor with your dumb broken saxophone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a nice thing to say to the girl you’re relying on for kisses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amity repeated, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I don’t play a glorified tin whistle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I don’t play a squawky jazz th- oh, wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You walked right into that one,” Luz said proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still better than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At some things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” She tucked her head into the crook of Luz’s neck. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazingly, considering I’m a shit player.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not-” Amity paused. “I haven’t actually called you that, have I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to my face. But I can’t talk for your lunch table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity shrugged. “Boscha sucks. She hates you. That’s nothing new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz went quiet, running her eyes over the constellations in the sky. She’d watched them by herself many times, but having Amity here made it all the more special.  There was something about the hot-headed flute player she just couldn’t get enough of. Her presence was mesmerizing. “At least you don’t hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting out a heavy exhale, Amity traced her hand along the side of Luz’s body until she found the other girl’s hand. “I don’t. I guess you’re right.” She interlocked their fingers together. “Fine. You win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling of Amity’s hand in hers was what Luz might have described as heavenly. She’d never held hands with a girl before, but this- this was everything she’d imagined and then some. She traced her thumb along the back of Amity’s hand and silently pleaded with her to never let go. “I win, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You win. I think the cold is getting to my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go back to my place? I have a very soft bed. It’s perfect for cuddling.” She was only half-joking, but she guessed- hoped- that Amity still wouldn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to fall asleep without Amity’s warmth beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think I’d do that?” murmured Amity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.” She sounded a lot less begrudging than she was probably intending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s get home. It’ll be warmer there.” Reluctantly dislodging her, Luz stood and extended her hand. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity staggered up beside her and took her hand. “If the cold were an issue, I would have taken my coat back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sap. You like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s classified information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked hand in hand all the way back to Luz’s car, the tension between them evaporated at last.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 11:01 on a Wednesday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what doesn’t kill u makes u stronger ig</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the first time in months, Amity’s dreams that night weren’t filled with the harsh, sharp-edged reprimands of her mother, nor were they ruined by images of Luz in first chair, playing away with a confidence Amity had never had. Instead, she didn’t dream at all. As soon as she laid her head down, her mind went fuzzy, and peaceful, deep sleep came for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think about her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think about the concert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t think about Luz- and what the implications of their relationship were now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless, she was very surprised when she awoke with her read resting on the saxophonist’s chest- a saxophonist who was still very fast asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz hadn’t even bothered to take the varsity jacket off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked cute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The notion was laughable to Amity, but she didn’t try to push it away. If her mind was going to act as a traitor, then so be it. She’d deal with it another day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in sleep, Luz’s arm was tossed over her back, hand resting at the bottom of her neck. Luz’s faint, feathery touch and gentle, sleepy murmurs must have been what had woken her up. So Luz sleeptalked. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> adorable, but since her speech was nothing more than incoherent mumbles, it wasn’t like Amity had anything to use against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz must have been able to read her mind. She blinked her eyes open, letting out a huge yawn, and dragged Amity even closer to her with one arm. “Mornin’,” she mumbled, and promptly conked back out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity snorted with amusement. Trust Luz to be the lazy morning person out of the two of them. Not that she blamed her. The morning was a relaxing one. The sun streamed through the windows, and the air was warm, and the-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun streamed through the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flung herself out of Luz’s arms, hitting her carpeted floor with a thud. “Luz,” she hissed, scrabbling to her feet and shaking Luz’s limp form violently. “Luz, get up. We’re late.” A small digital clock on Luz’s nightstand betrayed the fact that it was already 11:01 AM. 11:01 AM on a Wednesday in February- a day they still definitely had school.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, we’re fucked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz groaned and ran a hand through her messy hair as she sat up. “What…” She caught a glimpse of the alarm clock, and her eyes went wide. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up!” Amity yelped, grasping Luz’s arm and giving it a sharp tug. “Don’t you know what today is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe,” she replied, “that it’s Wednesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- well, yes, but other than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz squinted at the window like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “The… twenty-fourth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the day after the mid-winter concert. The second most important day of my entire junior year. The day that will determine my fate for the rest of the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, calm down there.” Luz gave her shoulder a brief, reassuring touch. “I’m new, remember? I don’t know what all your Hexside traditions are yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.” She exhaled, forcing herself to calm down. Getting herself worked up wouldn’t help anything. “Today is… drum major audition day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drum… major?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess at Glandus they probably called them the field commander. You know, the kid they put in charge of the marching band. The one who usually got a weapon or something, and who got all the credit for waving their arms and looking cool. Auditions for that are today after school. And missing Banshee Orchestra this morning isn’t a good look for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it you want to be the drum major,” Luz conceded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than I’ve ever wanted anything else in the world.” Amity’s heart ached with the pure yearning of it all. She knew drum major wasn’t a prestigious title, at least not in the long run, but maybe if she were up there on the podium, holding the drum major’s sword, she’d finally be </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s go,” she declared. “Can’t have you missing the most important day of your life. We’ll-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped mid-sentence. A knock sounded on her door that reverberated through the whole bedroom. She turned to Amity, panic flashing in her eyes. “Hide!” she hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where? You don’t have a closet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz was too late. Her door was flung open, and a woman Amity presumed to be her mother marched inside. Like a deer in headlights, Amity froze. Luz’s mom swiveled her gaze between the two girls, face smoldering with anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz Noceda,” she said sharply, “what is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity begged herself to speak up, to at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to defend Luz, but just as she always did when she was terrified- behind the microphone or not- she had frozen up from her head to her toes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz looked equally terrified. “Um-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I came home for lunch break, I certainly didn’t expect to find this. You’re late, and you snuck someone in, too. I know you’ve been faring very well socially here, but you’re still not allowed to bring anyone without telling me- and judging by how unkempt you both are, it was overnight, too.” Now she sounded more exasperated than angry, but Amity was still a tad terrified. “If you had asked, I’d have said yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, hear me out. It’s more complicated than that.” Luz addressed Amity. “Is it okay if I tell her about your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s unusually gentle voice made her blush. “Sure,” she said tersely, glancing at the carpet. God, of all the times to get embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Amity, Mom. She’s a really really good flute player in concert band with me, but she wasn’t allowed to go to the concert last night because she has super awful and strict parents. But I convinced her to go anyway, because I know concerts mean a lot to her. It’s my fault. And she couldn’t go home last night, because she would have gotten in really big trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s mom raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t she going to get in even bigger trouble now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No- well, probably. But we needed more time to figure out what we should do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity’s phone buzzed. She picked it up off Luz’s nightstand. Her ringtone, a cheery march with a bright flute melody, pierced her eardrums, and she switched the volume off as quickly as she could. She was receiving a call from Odalia Blight. When she pressed decline, tens of notifications popped up- missed calls from her parents and even her siblings. “I’ll… deal with that later,” she muttered. “We really need to go. I’m sorry, Miss Noceda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Luz’s mom sighed. “I suppose you shouldn’t be any later if you can help it. Luz, give me your phone. You’re grounded for a week. But please do reintroduce me to Amity at a better time, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride to school was silent. There were a lot of things Amity wanted to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by the nervous concentration on Luz’s face, she was leaving a few questions unasked as well. Amity had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep herself from yelling. What were they? What was going on? Did Luz like her? Did she like Luz? Why was her heart pounding so fast? Why was she still thinking about kissing Luz? Why did her heart have to be so damn unruly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz skidded into a parking spot and slammed on the breaks, throwing her forward with a yelp. “What was that for?” she demanded. “You’re gonna concuss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz groaned. “Look. The tension is killing me. I am in the process of dying a fiery, agony-filled death. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have a conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms. “Well, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have a conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have amnesia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night was weird, okay? That was weird. I wouldn’t have normally done that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Luz looked genuinely hurt. “So none of that was real? You didn’t mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not- AGH.” Amity buried her face in her hands. “You are so impossible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you lied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a lie! It was real, I just- I don’t know. Everything is weird with my parents and I was stressed and I was feeling more bold than usual. I acted on my instincts. I shouldn't have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least now you don’t even have to talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swiveled her gaze towards her. Luz was avoiding her eyes now. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promised you that if you came to the concert, we wouldn’t have to talk for a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> think we’re still going through with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shrugged. “...Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be a bitch, but I’m not that much of a bitch. I wouldn’t do that to you. We can still talk… if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d want that. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” What little certainty Amity had left fled. Tentatively, she reached out and took Luz’s wrist. Luz was peering right at her now, probably straight through her mind. She was probably seeing every thought that Amity was thinking. Not that Amity had any clue what those thoughts were. “I want…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz was alluring. It was no secret that from the first day, the snarky saxophonist had been pulling her under her, slowly but surely. And even though she’d tried her best to resist, it’d proven to be impossible. Her carefree demeanor, charming smile, and gorgeous playing were too much, and Amity realized that she’d fallen. Hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Luz murmured. “Take your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That remark finally pushed her patience over the edge. Throwing herself into the driver’s seat, she wrapped her arms around Luz’s waist and kissed her fervently. Luz reciprocated as if she’d been waiting for this moment the whole time, and amidst all the other feelings in her chest, Amity couldn’t push away the guilt that she probably had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anticipation of auditions left her mind. This was much better than school. Audition stress could wait. The whole rest of her life could wait. Luz was here now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that answer your question?” Amity said hoarsely after the parted. She and Luz were still mere inches away from each other, and it took all her willpower to not lean back in and kiss her again. “I tried to say it as efficiently as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Efficient is right,” Luz replied breathlessly. “Would right now be a bad time to remind you that when we met two months ago you hated me with a burning passion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t hate you. You just… frustrated me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frustrated is right.” Luz whistled. “Wooow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” She gave Amity’s shoulder a nudge, and Amity pried herself away, settling back down in the passenger seat. “Are we dating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dating?” Amity repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, dating. Girlfriends. With sappy romantic stuff and PDA and holding hands in the hallways and pissing off faculty a lot more than we would if we were straight. That kind of thing. Unless you just wanna be platonic buddies who occasionally kiss. That’s fine too, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I’m still trying to accept the fact that I don’t hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still trying to accept the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t hate </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Amity admitted. “Some of that stuff doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” She hated herself from saying it, but watching Luz’s face light up brighter than all the stars in the sky made it worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is perfect cheesy date season. Have you ever been ice skating? I’ve always wanted to ice skate with someone and hold their hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you’ve ever held someone’s hand before,” Amity teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz sniffed. “So what if I haven’t? Wouldn’t you be honored to be the first hand I held?” She reached across the space between the two seats and grabbed Amity’s pale hand in hers, if not a little too tightly. “There. Now you can’t make fun of me for having never held anyone’s hand before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ve never held anyone’s hand, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha. Well, think about my idea. I know it’s a big decision.” Prying her fingers out of Amity’s, she grabbed her keys from the ignition. “Until then, we’ve got an audition to get you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Amity said thoughtfully, “I think auditions can wait. They’re not until two thirty, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz smirked. “I like the way you think, Blight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and kiss me again, Noceda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amity would have guessed that the timing of their conversation would have made her audition worse, not better, since her mind should have been on conducting and most definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Luz’s gentle eyes and how sweet her kisses felt and the way she’d whispered “please be my girlfriend?” as Amity had gotten out of the car, but here she was, just running on autopilot, her mind a million miles away but her hands right where she needed them. Conducting in common time was just as easy as she thought it would be, and since her siblings were theatre kids, they’d taught her well how to project her </span>
  <em>
    <span>band, atten-hut, horns up, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and her </span>
  <em>
    <span>mark time, mark, and one-two-ready go.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bump never butted in to comment, and he dismissed her wordlessly, so she was assuming he was impressed. Best of all, he didn’t say a word about her absence from both classes that day. (Hopefully, the fact that both she and Luz were missing wasn’t too incriminating.) In short, she was a shoe-in for the position. Finally, the Friday night crowds would hear her name and look down at her. They’d see her as something wonderful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Save from the situation with her parents, everything was pretty much perfect. She and Luz were on the same page, she was pretty much guaranteed the position of drum major, and she’d finally accepted her defeat in jazz band.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe nothing would go wrong for her ever again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeah u keep telling yourself that amity</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. No Flutist Left Behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry this is short i’m just trying to create some semblance of a conflict before the story ends and those transitional chapters are important😗✌️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m done! This thing is stupid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz resisted the urge to throw her saxophone onto the ground right then and there, but since she knew it would be expensive to fix, she flopped down grumpily onto the couch instead, keeping the horn balanced in her lap. She’d about had it with this piece she was supposed to be playing. Contest was in a week, and she’d barely begun to be able to play the rhythms. She shuddered when she thought about how much expression and articulation and other long musicy words she had to incorporate into her performance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow hovered over her. “That’s because you’re not trying. Stand up and play it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’m trying,” she snapped. “I’m just bad at this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. Watch.” She went back to her thin wire music stand and attempted to bring her mouthpiece up, but the bell of her sax had other plans, hitting the side of the stand and sending it toppling forward. “See? The universe has it out for me. I'm gonna fail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow sighed. “You’re only making so many mistakes because there’s something on your mind,” she said firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Like how I’m gonna be taking home a bronze metal on Saturday. Hell, maybe it won’t even be bronze. Maybe I’ll get a </span>
  <em>
    <span>participation ribbon.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not why you’re distracted, and you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Willow weren’t her best friend, Luz wouldn’t allow her to be as brutally honest as she was. Unfortunately, Willow was usually right, including about this. Luz knew very well that she wouldn’t think anything less of herself if she didn’t win a gold medal in a week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz, ever since Amity went missing, you’ve been more on edge than a sixth grader at their first concert. I don’t really know what happened last week at your </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> concert, but I’m assuming it has something to do with the reason she’s gone, and now you blame herself for whatever happened to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate you being the voice of reason here,” Luz huffed, “but sometimes I really wish you weren’t so intuitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, sorry, you’re stuck with me.” She laughed, clapping Luz on the back. “So,” she went on, crossing her arms, “is there anything you want to tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Luz was hesitant. How much did she want to tell Willow? Did she want to reveal that everything her friend said was correct? Willow hadn’t lied once. Luz really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel like she was to blame for Amity’s disappearance. Since the day after the concert, Amity hadn’t shown up to school once. Luz had tried texting her multiple times, but the messages hadn’t even gone through. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Amity had described her horrible parents, and Luz had saved her from them for one night- but that’s just what it had been. One night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, she could never give Willow the satisfaction of having predicted their… whatever this was. Or would be, if Amity escaped her parents. “I just hope she’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good riddance, I say. I’m sure she’s fine. I don’t know why </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>aren’t happier. You’re no doubt the top player in the jazz band now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have been anyway, since I moved up. And just because she’s Amity,” she added defensively, “doesn’t mean she’s not my bandmate. I can still worry about her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A realization crossed Willow’s face, and she narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute,” she said. Luz watched with a pit in her stomach as her friend donned her signature shit-eating grin. “Ha! I knew it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Knew what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Amity,” Willow laughed triumphantly. “You’re, like, y’know… together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not,” she defended herself, but she could still feel her face heat up, and she knew that any attempt to bluff about her relationship with Amity was a lost cause. “She hates me. I hate her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way. You walked into first period on Thursday with such a dreamy look in your eyes-I knew something was up. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it sooner. Wow.” Suddenly overcome with laughter, Willow doubled over, wiping tears from her face. “I can’t believe you. You’re so bad at this. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you this was going to happen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having had enough, Luz unclipped her saxophone and began putting it away. “Even if anything did happen between us- which it didn’t- that wouldn’t be why I’m worried about her. I think something happened with her parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They hate that she’s in band. That’s what she told me.” She recalled, bittersweetly, the late, late hours of the night in which Amity had lain in her arms and murmured about her past and her parents and her grievances and insecurities. It had felt strangely intimate, and even a bit out-of-character, but Amity had denied that thoroughly the next morning that any of it had happened, so maybe she hadn’t even truly been awake. “They think she’s wasting her high school years, but she only does it because it makes her happy. Because being in the spotlight gives her something to love about herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you want me to sympathize with her, but it’s not working. She’s not like that. She just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willow still looked unenthused. “You’re in love with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I did set you up, so maybe I’m to blame. Anyway, you need to stop worrying-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Willow’s rambling faded into the background as she fished it out with lightning speed. Was it Amity? Was Amity okay? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart dropped almost instantly. The Instagram message wasn’t from Amity, but it was from a username she recognized. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[luzuranoceda] edblight420: can you meet us at the picnic tables outside hexside? We should probably talk to you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Willow said, peering over her shoulder. “Her siblings. Of course. Why didn’t you think of that sooner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not even allowed out of the house?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Emira Blight shook her head sadly. “No. Our parents were furious when she finally got home. They put her on online learning, blocked her school email, and took her phone, so that’s why you haven’t heard from her. I didn’t even know online learning even still existed now that the Great Plague is over, but hey. Our parents can do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom took my phone too.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least I got mine back yesterday, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luz thought ruefully. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But still- nothing from Amity. At least now I know why.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Emira’s twin brother, Edric, nodded in agreement. “She stopped complaining about you sometime around the concert, so that’s why we figured we should talk to you. She must have finally realized how much you mean to her if you aren’t at each other’s throats- at least metaphorically. Well, that and she asked us to find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz didn’t know a lot about the Blight twins- only that they were prominent figures in the theatre department, and that Amity secretly loved them a lot, but that was about it. Still, they were exactly as she had imagined- cheeky as hell, even with their little sister in such an unfortunate position. “How much did she tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Em said, her smile unnervingly innocent, “but we know what’s going on. It’s okay. She’s not subtle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz groaned. Willow, seated on the bench next to her, snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They think we’re at rehearsal right now. They track our phones, so this was the only safe place to meet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds suffocating,” Willow commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed nodded. “Oh, it’s awful. And Amity gets the worst of it. Mom and Dad hate that she’s a band kid, but they’re fine with us being in theatre… I guess. I don’t know. It’s weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” scoffed Em. “They’ve been refusing to come to our performances since the fifth grade talent show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least they let us do it at all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, we get it, you’re the favorite children. Can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me when Amity’s allowed to come back to school? I…” Luz shifted in her seat, feeling Willow’s gaze boring into the side of her head. “I mean, the Banshee Orchestra misses its top flute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both twins exchanged uneasy glances. “About that…” Em said. She was refusing to look Luz in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed cleared his throat. “The thing is… our parents have been thinking about unenrolling Amity from Hexside since she was a sophomore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They wanted to homeschool her instead,” clarified Em. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They always told her that she had so much academic potential that public school wouldn’t be able to meet her needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she convinced them to let her stay because she loved band so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that just made them hate it even more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Em swallowed. “When she didn’t show up after the concert- she didn’t come home for a whole ‘nother day after that- that was the last straw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So starting next year-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amity won’t be going to school with you anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” both twins said simultaneously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Luz shrieked. She felt like all the breath was being driven out of her. Amity was </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaving?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just like that? A silence fell over the four. The only thing Luz could hear was the cool spring breeze brushing over her face and the roar of confused thoughts in her mind. Why was the thought of playing in band without Amity so… devastating? They were supposed to be rivals!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, whether she liked it or not, they weren’t, not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is all my fault.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did this,” she whispered. “I got her kicked out of Hexside. I never should have taken her home with me that day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you after the concert,” Ed said. “That… makes a lot of sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to save her from you guys’s parents for just a little longer, that’s all. I didn’t think I'd make it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should have thought about that first,” grunted Willow. Luz resisted the urge to swat her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Em stretched, reaching across the table and placing a reassuring hand on Luz’s crossed arms. “You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to protect her- and that tells me that you hate her a lot less than she tells me you do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t hate her at all.” She astounded herself with the words- and then again when she realized they were true. “Yeah, she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>stuck up… and a tiny bit self centered… and prettier than I’ll ever be… but that doesn’t mean I hate her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, you made up too late,” Em apologized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And made </span>
  <em>
    <span>out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Edric.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twins continued to bicker for a moment. Luz rested her chin on her hands, letting their squabbling fade into the background. She wasn’t one to sulk. She didn’t like sulking at all- it just made her feel worse in the end. She preferred to be proactive. Still, this wasn’t really a problem she could just whack away with her bat. Or with her saxophone. (Her weapon of choice really depended on her mood. Right now, she’d probably use one on each Blight parent.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to her disappointment, there was nothing she could really do but let poor Amity sit alone in her room until she graduated. Maybe Amity would look out the window at night and search for the stars they’d watched together on the night of the concert. Maybe that was the only connection they’d ever have again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a second,” she interrupted, forcing the twins to finally cease their argument. “What floor of the manor is Amity’s room on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Em and Ed exchanged a puzzled glance. “The third,” Em said. “What, are you going to start sending her love letters by carrier pigeon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Does her window unlock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It did,” Ed grumbled. “I tried to undo it, but apparently my superior lockpicking skills are nothing next to our parents’ insanity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All that for staying out for one night?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luz shuddered. Risky as her idea was, she still had to give it a shot. Even if it was a shot in the dark. “It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to light the manor on fire?” Willow butted in eagerly. “I’d be glad to help with that. Remember that unscheduled fire drill we had last month?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “We’re not lighting anything on fire. We’re going to commit a good old-fashioned heist- and you guys are going to help me.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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